


resurrection of the body

by Rysler



Series: Seasons [1]
Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: British titles are no longer inherited, Chili's, Endless Dunkin Donuts, F/F, FBI, Foster Care, Landed gentry, Medium Burn, North Carolina, Past Rape/Non-con, Southern Gothic, new money
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 50,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22187785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rysler/pseuds/Rysler
Summary: Anne Lister is an ambitious FBI agent down on her luck, reassigned to eastern North Carolina. Just a setback. There, she meets wealthy, lonely Ann Walker.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Series: Seasons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709995
Comments: 433
Kudos: 467





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to A_Southern_Ladywoman and shonn for beta-reading!

Eubathes.—Revelation gives no authority to your ideas of spiritual nature; the Christian immortality is founded upon the resurrection of the body.  
The Unknown.—This I will not allow. 

  * From [Consolations in Travel](http://www.gutenberg.org/files/17882/17882-h/17882-h.htm), Read by Anne Lister ~ 1830s, from Ann Walker’s library.



**Chapter One**

Sam Washington looked afraid. Practically shaking. His eyes were wide enough to see white all around, and his mouth was slightly open, as if he needed help breathing.

Anne Lister closed her car door, gave her FBI jacket a tug, and stepped into the glow of her own headlights. The sun had not yet crept up, and there was a greyish black in the dawn all around them.

“Sheriff?” she asked.

“Anne.” He shook her hand when she approached him. “Fishermen found him. The lake’s not too far from here. Along the road. Uh, forensics on the way. And the coroner…”

“Sowden?”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“Christ. I hate that guy.”

Sam nodded. “And I, uh, called the state police. They’re coming from Rocky Mount. Won’t be too long.”

Anne glanced at the blue tent, and the patrolman guarding it. “Sam, you said one body. This seems like an overreaction.”

He shook his head rapidly. “Come see.” He led her to the tent.

The floor of the tent was dirt and leaves, and on top of them lay a Latino boy, a teenager by the looks of him, dead, with a discolored throat.

“I cut him down,” Sam said. “I don’t care. I cut him down.”

Anne felt a growing coldness in her core. “Sam.” She didn’t look at him; only at the boy. “What are you saying?”

“He was hanging. On the oak tree out there.”

“Shit.” Anne took a moment. “Do we know who he is?”

“No. I sent his photo out to the police and the social services, just in case he was in the system. I don’t recognize him.”

Anne walked around the boy in a circle. “I don’t, either.” She took pictures and sent them to Raleigh. Then yawned.

“Sorry to wake you up, Anne. I didn’t want--”

 _To be alone._ “It’s fine.”

Sam went outside the tent patted the patrolman on the shoulder. “We can keep watch here. Go down to the ‘Mart and get all their coffee.”

“All of it?”

“Yup.”

Anne had followed. The grey sky was lightening. She went to turn off her car. She leaned against the hood. “I haven’t been here more’n six months, Sam. How long has it been since this happened?”

“Jesus, uh.” He rubbed his face. “Fifty years.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it, Sam. I’m sure the staties will be in charge, but you have the full force of the FBI behind you.”

Sam didn’t look comforted.

***

Child Protective Services identified the child as Diego Lopez, recently under the foster care of Miss Ann Walker, due to be returned to his home the day before his body was found. The state police focused on the family, which left the Sheriff and his men to canvas the area for witnesses and monitor the forensics. Anne Lister volunteered to check out Ann at the Walker farm. Interviews were easy. Better than mucking about in the forest all day.

The Walker Farm was one hundred acres, mostly wooded, with a few acres of pasture surrounding a grand farmhouse, freshly painted white, with a trimmed picket fence and dogs to greet her car.

It wasn’t quite a plantation but it was an ostentatious site in an otherwise poor county. Most of the old farmhouses had been torn down for smaller, more modern homes with efficient windows and garages. Anne wondered if it was on the historical registry.

She had called ahead. No one liked having the FBI show up at their door. 

A woman came onto the wrap-around porch, smiling cautiously. She was slender and blonde, perhaps in her late 20s or early 30s, and she was wearing a merlot-red dress that went past her knees, with a ruffled collar. 

Anne got out of her car. She’d changed into a black suit, and her hair was pulled back in a haphazard bun. Her only nod to fashion was emerald-set cufflinks under her sleeves.

She offered her hand. “Hello, I’m Special Agent Anne Lister.”

The woman took her hand and gave it an uncertain shake. “Ann Walker.”

“I see we have the same name.” Anne attempted a friendly smile.

Ann’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

“Can I come in?”

Ann hesitated on the threshold. “What’s this about?”

“Diego Lopez.”

Ann pursed her lips, but moved aside, letting Anne into the house. There was a faint floral scent, and everything was clean. Ann took her to the front parlor, which had antique chairs and a sofa. 

“Can I make you a drink?” Ann asked.

“Perhaps you’d better,” Anne said.

Ann went to a cabinet in the corner of the room and opened it, pulling out two lowball glasses, and then taking them to the kitchen.

Anne followed her, at a distance, in awe of the kitchen and its stainless steel appliances, mighty island that had to be covered in marble, and the big picture window that looked into the pasture beyond.

Ann filled the two glasses with ice, then plucked mint from a plant on the counter. She added the leaves and then filled the glasses halfway with club soda. Every moment was deliberate; elegant; practiced. She took the glasses back into the parlor, Anne following, and topped them off with gin. Tanqueray, Anne noticed, almost disappointed it wasn’t something more etheral.

Ann handed her the drink.

Anne sat on the sofa. People on sofas were friendly and easy to talk to. 

She gestured that Ann sit, and Ann sat, across from her in an upright chair. She had appallingly-perfect posture, and kept her hands neatly folded in front of her.

“Did you go to finishing school?” Anne asked.

Ann blinked, startled. “Yes, I did.” She smiled shyly. 

“How interesting. Um. Unfortunately…” She looked steadily into Ann’s face. “You should take a drink.”

Ann, brow furrowed, took a tiny sip from her glass.

Anne exhaled. “I have some bad news about Diego.”

Ann’s face crumpled. “Please. Tell me he was arrested. You’re the FBI. Maybe he threatened the president. Or--”

“No.” Anne wished she were closer, to take Ann’s hands. “He was found dead this morning.”

Ann let out a sob. She covered her face. 

Anne watched for a moment, and then got up and sat on the coffee table, and put her hand on Ann’s thigh. “I’m so sorry.”

Ann inhaled, shook herself, and gave her attention to Anne. “How? Why?” She took a drink, searching Anne’s face for answers.

“It was murder.”

Ann pressed her glass to her mouth. “My God.”

“Yes. How did you know him?”

“He uh. First off. He preferred to be called Deanna.”

“Oh.” Anne reached behind her for her bag, and pulled out a notebook, and wrote that down. She ignored her drink. “Go on.”

“She’d been in my care for two weeks. I only do emergency foster placement, right? Yank the kids out, do an evaluation after. Usually it’s fine. Or, well, okay. I often work with the LGBTQ population. Many foster parents… won’t.”

“But Dieg--Deanna went home yesterday?”

Ann looked away, avoiding her eyes.

“Miss Walker. You are not a suspect in this investigation, but… Please be honest with me.”

At that moment, a man came from the back of the house into the parlor. He stopped short when he saw Anne and her suit.

She evaluated him. Ann’s age--husband? Brother?--in a faded plaid shirt and heavy jeans and boots.

Ann cleared her throat. “Special Agent Lister, this is James. James Mackenzie. He works here at the farm. A, uh, handyman of sorts. You should sit, James.”

James sat, after giving Anne’s hand a firm handshake.

Ann said, “I’ve...I’ve had some bad news about Deanna.”

James’ face remained impassive. These two had secrets.

“She died last night,” Ann said. “She was...murdered.” The last word was a whisper. Ann glanced back at Anne for assurance and confirmation.

Anne nodded. Patted her leg.

James cleared his throat. “Where?”

“Out by the reservoir,” Anne supplied.

James frowned.

Ann glanced her way again. “We, uh, didn’t return Deanna.”

“I gathered that,” Anne said.

“We gave her a bus ticket. She should have been in Richmond by now. Or at least, Raleigh. If there was a layover.”

“You gave a 14 year old child a bus ticket instead of giving her back to her parents?”

Ann’s face reddened. “She had a cousin in Virginia. One estranged from the family. It seemed...safer.”

“So the family was a problem.”

“Deanna thought so,” James said.

Ann nodded.

“I’m sorry,” Ann said. 

“Do you do this often?” Anne asked.

Ann and James glanced at each other.

Anne sighed. “Who else knew? About Deanna and the bus?”

“A few of her friends at school. Her cousin, of course. Us. We waited until the bus pulled out.”

“I’ll need the information on the ticket and the route.”

Ann nodded.

Anne stood up. “I’ll be in touch. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

Ann got up, too, and led her to the door, and shook her hand, gently. “Please.. Let me know what happened, Special Agent.”

“I will. It’s Anne. Remember? Anne.”

Ann offered a watery smile. “I’ll remember.”

Anne got into her car, and glanced at her notes, and then at the farmhouse. “Good Lord,” she muttered.

***

Anne sat at her desk, thinking about Ann Walker, instead of reading the bulletins that were appearing in her email. Her office was an unmarked shop in a strip mall in the middle of town. There was her room, with the computer, the desk, and a small conference table, and three desks in the main room, by the door. Two were occupied by her clerks. The Greenville resident agency was not impressive, and nor was her posting. 

It had been a 45 minute drive from the Walker Farm back to the city, and then another hour not reading email. Anne told herself she was tired. She’d woken up at 5:30 AM to the call from Sam.

Sam came in, greeted the clerks by name, and then popped his head into Anne’s office. “Hey, Baron. Coffee?”

“Sure. What are you doing up here?” Anne grabbed her bag and got up.

“Talking with the staties.” The SBI had their own, nicer building behind the strip mall.

She and Sam walked companionably silent down to Dunkin Donuts, and got a donut and a coffee.

“Bus information helped,” he said, chewing. “They got some footage from the stop in Rocky Mount. And there’s an uncle without an albi.”

“You sure?” she asked.

He nodded. “We’ll be making the arrest in 48 hours, I think. Soon as forensics from his car comes back. We think he strangled him--her--in Rocky Mount, then transported into the woods. For whatever reason.”

“So not a hate crime.” Anne took a sip of coffee. 

“Not officially.”

“So… How long have you known that about Ann Walker’s extracurriculars?”

“Sorry?”

“Kidnapping and transporting minors across state lines.”

Sam grinned. “I will just say that she’s the nicest lady I’ve ever met, and leave it at that.”

“No trouble?”

“None. Until now, I guess.”

“And her companion? James something?”

“He’s got a list of priors as long as my arm. But youthful stuff. Some problems with meth. But not since Miss Walker got here. His farm adjoins hers, and she just… gave him something to do. A purpose.”

“I see.” Anne licked donut icing off her finger.

Sam leaned forward. “Between you and me, Baron. She has a lot of money.”

“How nice for her.”

“And she swings your way. If you’re tired of dating ECU students.”

Anne scowled. “Not even when _I_ was a student. Why is Ann Walker living on the nicest farm in Eastern Carolina, all alone?”

“You’d have to ask her.” Sam grinned.

“I think I will.”

“You can give her the news about Die--the kid. You don’t have to wait for the arrest. Unless you think she’d spill.”

“I don’t.” Anne finished her coffee. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Thank you, Baron.” He winked.

“Don’t call me that.”

***

Anne called Ann from her office at 4 o’clock the next day. They’d found fingerprints that matched the uncle’s. Sloppiness that was appreciated by the police, but made Anne feel as if the criminal element were beneath her. She’d probably never find her Moriarty. Not in Greenville.

She missed Charlotte. 

Ann thanked her for the news, sounding more composed than the day before.

“And the… foster situation?” Ann asked.

“None of my business. Sheriff Washington made that clear.”

Ann’s exhale of relief was endearing. “Agent Lister…”

“Anne.” 

But there was a formality to Ann’s tone as she said, “Let me take you to dinner. For all of your help. I could tell you more about Deanna. You’ve really been… so helpful.”

It seemed unnecessary. But it could be a pleasant diversion. Anne’s social life had been dismal since leaving the big city, and it chafed at her. A well-bred woman wouldn’t be the worst friend. And Ann Walker was beautiful. That was something to enjoy. “Sure. Tonight?”

“Do you know where Taste of China is?”

“Yes.” In six months, Anne had found every Chinese restaurant in a hundred miles.

“Seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful,” Ann Walker said, like she meant it.

***

“I asked Sheriff Washington about you,” Ann said, coyly, smiling at Anne, when the food had been delivered to their table.

The Chinese restaurant was pleasant inside, painted beige with colorful wall hangings, and only a handful of tables. Their take-out business was brisk. 

Anne sat with Ann at the window. Anne had a beer in front of her. Ann had declined.

“Oh did you? And you still came?” Anne asked, smiling. 

“Why does he call you the Baron?”

“Oh, that. Er.” Anne rubbed the back of her neck. “My grandfather was a Baron. Speaker of the House of Commons. Or somesuch.”

“So are you...what? A baby Baron? A baronnette?” Anne was practically chuckling.

“No, you can’t inherit titles anymore. I’m just the granddaughter of a great man and the daughter of a series of terrible choices.”

“Hence the honest living?”

“Exactly.” Anne tapped the table, and then her temple. “I was smart, you see. Smarter than the rest. So I got to go to George Washington, and I got to walk up to the FBI’s booth at career day, and here I am.” 

Ann smiled. “I would like to hear the longer version of that sometime.”

There was a flutter of something in Anne’s chest. She took a sip of beer. “And what about you? Finishing school?”

“And UVA. My parents were new money determined to be old money. From Virginia, but they bought the farm with… I don’t know. Grand plans. And then they died. Also a long story.”

Anne nodded. “What did you study at UVA? Besides secret societies and soirees?” 

“Psychology. But, I, uh, didn’t finish.” Ann’s cheeks tinged pink.

“Oh?” Anne asked.

Ann looked away, and then back at her. “Institutionalized.”

“Oh, I see.” Anne smiled. “None of my business.”

Ann gave a relieved exhale. 

Anne changed the subject. “Did James drive you here?”

Ann’s blush deepened. “In fact, he did. He took the car to do Uber in the city. He’ll do that all night.”

“It is Friday, isn’t it?”

Ann leaned forward. “I was hoping I could get a ride home. If all went well.” 

Was that a twinkle in her eye?

“It would be my pleasure.” And it would. “I don’t know many people here. I moved down six months ago.”

“Doesn’t seem to be an ideal posting for an ambitious and intelligent FBI agent,” Ann said demurely.

“Another long story.” Anne hid behind her beer bottle.

“Well, we haven’t even done the introductories. Are you married? Do you have pets? Do you like children?”

“No, no, and _no._ ” Anne grinned. “I quite admire you for taking on the little monsters.”

“It’s just… something helpful to do.”

_With all your money?_

Ann went on. “I cried about Deanna all night. I just can’t imagine. But…” She met Anne’s gaze steadily. “Things like that happen. You must know, too.”

“Yes. I imagine my work has shown me similar things to your experiences.” Anne put her hand on the table. “I’m sorry.”

Ann took a deep breath, and took Anne’s hand. “Thank you. It’s good to have someone to talk to.” She then muttered, “Anyone.”

“Lonely in that big house?”

“Yes. But peaceful. My family in Virginia—what’s left of them—are unbearable. I had no idea if I could survive living on my own. I never have before. But I’ve been so much happier.”

Anne squeezed Ann’s fingers. “I’ve been alone a long time, too. It’s been very freeing.”

Anne thought about Mariana. That was not a first date story. The anchor around her neck would stay hidden under her shirt collar.

Their plates were cleared, and fortune cookies brought. Anne insisted on paying the tab, since the meeting was a professional matter. Ann insisted on paying “next time,” which made them both happy.

Anne opened her fortune cookie. “A friend is a present you give yourself,” she read.

“—In bed,” Ann finished.

Anne raised her eyebrows, and then laughed. “Minx. Your turn.”

“He who laughs at himself never runs out of things to laugh at,” Ann read.

Anne chuckled. “Well then.” 

***

Satellite radio was the one extravagance Anne allowed herself. Well, that and old and tattered books. She put on the opera station after they had settled into her Prius. 

“Opera?” Ann asked as the car pulled out. “I’m not buying it.”

“You’re not impressed?”

“Not in the slightest, Anne Lister.”

Anne chuckled. She turned it down, but left it on the station. “Sometimes it reminds me there’s a bigger world out there. Language and love and history outside of North Carolina. Or even the country I took oaths too.”

Ann drew her fingertips along Anne’s wrist on the gearshift. “Lovely. Still not buying it.”

“Fine.” Anne hit a pre-set and the Fox News stream came on.

Ann laughed. “Oh God. This is worse.”

“This is part of the job.” 

“Shut it off.”

Anne turned off the radio. She settled her hand back into the gearshift and was rewarded by another light touch from Ann Walker. 

“I’ll make you a mixtape, or something,” Ann said.

“Dixie Chicks?”

“DC trap.”

“I feel a need to inform you, Miss Walker, that I am old.” Anne confessed.

“Oh, I know.” Ann’s smile was wide.

The rest of the 30 minute drive was peaceful, with light banter, but no deep, personal questions. They were interrupted once by a rush of static and coded words.

“What was that?” Ann asked.

“Police radio. I think someone over on 95 hit a deer.”

“Oh. Poor deer.”

Anne nodded, and slowed down her car slightly.

They reached the farm and Anne pulled off into the gravel driveway, parking in front of the house.

She got out of the car when Anne got out, and for a moment was seized by a chivalrous desire to kiss Ann’s hand. Ridiculous. She accepted Ann Walker’s courteous hug instead, smelling of umami and the fresh night air.

“Call me,” Ann whispered into her ear.

“Promise.” 

Ann went up to the house and let herself in. Lights came on inside. Anne watched, trying not to think of James far away driving around, dismissing her misogynistic thought of a woman alone in the middle of nowhere.

There were dogs, after all.

Anne inhaled deeply. Stars flickered overhead. Nearly a hundred of them. More than in Greenville. Crickets were singing. For once, she didn’t miss Charlotte.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fun before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm borrowing Gillian from Jessica Jones Season 3. If you're not familiar with her, this is a good start: https://www.popsugar.com/entertainment/Who-Plays-Gillian-Jessica-Jones-Season-3-46272659

“It was not the wish of his parents that their son should be a poet; and without offering any violence to the natural bias of his mind, they endeavoured to regulate it, by turning his attention to common things, leading him to the observation of facts, and endeavouring to make him acquainted with the occupations as well as with the duties of life.”

  * Maria Hack, Geological Sketches, and Glimpses of the Ancient Earth, read by Anne Lister ~ 1830s, from Ann Walker’s library.



**Chapter Two**

Anne Lister wasn’t expected in the office in the morning, as it was Saturday, so she didn’t go. She sat at her shoddy dining room table and opened her laptop. Her diary loaded; online, under a fake name. Public but completely ignored. Anonymous.

 _I feel completely silly_ , she typed. _But I think I have a crush on someone._

Embarrassed, she looked around her bare apartment to see if anyone had noticed.

Everything was still and quiet.

She missed her house in the big city. Living frugally, she’d invested into remodeling and revitalizing an older home on two acres of land. She’d landscaped and created gardens--though seeing Ann Walker’s had made her realize she was a child playing with a spade compared to what real money on real land could do.

Anne had had brick and granite and the most stunning artwork…

She sighed and typed. _I’ve been seeing this transfer to Greenville as a setback, but maybe there is something worthwhile here. A reason worth staying. For a while, at least._

Promptly at 10 o’clock in the morning, she texted Ann Walker. 

“Had a nice time last night. Hope you got some rest.”

That was her best draft after three attempts. 

To distract herself from waiting for a reply, she drove into work after all. 

“Gillian,” she said to the clerk at the front computer covering the Saturday half-day shift, “Can I see you in your office?”

Gillian’s expression was a mix of panic and annoyance. “Sure, boss.”

They sat at the conference table, and Anne closed the door. Gillian, too, was a reluctant transferee, a New York City girl through and through who’d moved to North Carolina to take care of her sick grandfather.

“You, um,” Anne started, rubbing her jaw and furrowing her brow. “Do you, uh.”

“Are you asking me out?” Gillian asked, smirking.

“No! God. No. Not that--I just wouldn’t--you’re an employee--you’re a very beautiful girl--I’m making this worse.” 

Anne was rarely at a loss for words. She was a consummate interviewer, and downright charming. But she didn’t invest much into getting to know her employees, and now that some degree of intimacy was required, she had none to work with.

Gillian looked at her patiently.

“Are you aware of, or involved in, the trans community in Greenville? The transsex--no. The.” Anne gestured vaguely.

“Oh. Sure. I mean, there’s not much of one. We have a support network but not like, a group hangout. Are you--is this an official investigation?” Gillian paused. “Is this about Deanna Lopez?”

“Yes. Sort of. I have a friend who was…a friend of hers. I just wanted to know what she was likely to have experienced.”

Gillian leaned back in her chair. “At 14, she probably was out at school but not out at home. Getting discovered probably… led to this.”

“I think so.”

“I’d have to check and see if the school had a GSA. If so, maybe you could talk to some of the members. In the investigation open?”

“It won’t be for long. This is more of a personal line of inquiry.”

“Okay, well, like most identity issues, moving north is always the best option.”

Anne nodded. “You miss New York.”

“Every freakin’ goddamn day.”

“I would have liked to work there. On TV their field offices always look so glamorous.”

Gillian grinned. “But you’d have to stop a terrorist attack, like, every day.”

“Exhilarating. Well. Let’s get back to the embezzling cases, shall we?”

Gillian got up. “We shall.”

Anne checked her phone. Ann had texted. “Beautiful morning here. How are you?”

Gillian had paused at the door. “Are you smiling?”

“What? No, I’m not smiling,” Anne said, as her cheeks burned.

“I’m onto you,” Gillian said, and went back to her computer.

Anne typed “Good” into the text box and stared at it for a little while. That wouldn’t do.

***

They texted amiably until Tuesday, when Anne phoned Ann instead, in the afternoon.

“Hi, Anne?” Came Ann’s voice.

“I just did an interview out in your neck of the woods. Would you like to go for coffee?”

“Sure. Pick me up?”

Anne drove to the farmhouse, where Ann was waiting on the porch in a white cotton blouse and a poodle skirt.

Anne got out of the car as Ann approached. “Are we going to a malt shop?”

“I wish,” Ann said, beaming as Anne bent to kiss her cheek. “I’m not really sure where the best place to get coffee is.”

“I usually go to Shell.”

Ann wrinkled her nose.

“Speedway?”

Ann said, “I’m beginning to regret this.”

Anne grinned. “There’s a Dunkin’ just down the road.”

“There’s always a Dunkin’ just down the road,” Ann said. But she got in Anne’s car anyway, and they headed down the road.

***

Anne got a latte and Ann got a chai tea, and they both had egg sandwiches. 

“How’s James?” Anne asked.

“He’s lovely. I have a feeling there’s a reason you’re asking.”

Anne took a sip of coffee. “I’m just wondering how someone with his criminal record gets to drive for Uber.”

Ann grinned, and glanced out the window.

“Ah, I see,” Anne said. “Money talks.”

“And don’t forget. It’s my turn to pick up the tab.”

“Yes, Ann,” Anne said. She leaned back in her chair and they smiled at each other for a moment.

Anne hit the table. “Have I ever told you about the biggest bank robbery in Atlanta history?”

“Were you there?” Ann’s eyes widened.

“Of course I was there!” Anne began to talk.

***

Their coffee was long-cold. 

Anne was becoming addicted to the expression of rapture on Ann’s face as she recounted stories. She’d gotten Ann to tell one of her own--a delightful prank at the UVA women’s dorm--and was wondering how to change the subject from cops and robbers to something more theoretical. Perhaps astronomy. 

Ann’s phone rang. She raised one finger to Anne as she answered it, turning away slightly.

“Yes. Okay. Now? At the center. Yes, email me the paperwork, I can read it in the car.” A pause. “See you soon.” 

Ann lowered the phone and frowned slightly at Anne. “There’s a child. I need to pick him up. Do you mind--Do you mind driving me?”

“Of course not.” Anne got to her feet. “Where?”

“CPS has him at the sheriff’s office in Snow Gap.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” She offered a hand to Ann to help her up, and Ann took it. “I really appreciate this. Otherwise I’d have to wait for James, and it’s better if he’s there to set up the house and run the errands we need.” Ann was slightly out of breath.

“It’s absolutely fine.” Anne grinned. “Unless I also get called away. Then we’ll all be in trouble.”

“I guess both our roles are feast or famine,” Ann said.

“Exactly. Let’s feast.”

Anne drove to the Snow Gap police station while Ann read her case file on her phone. Anne didn’t try to tease with the radio. She just listened to Ann’s murmurs. Ann kept the details to herself, except for telling Anne that the child’s name was Will Arnold.

In the station, Ann gave a bright smile and a hug to a woman who stood next to a skinny, white child about seven years old. “Hi, Debra.”

Debra glanced at Anne. “Is she registered? We can’t have strangers, Ann, you know that.”

“If you’ll just let me explain,” Anne said, taking Debra’s arm and leading her a few steps away. She showed her badge and introduced herself.

Ann winked at Anne. “The badge talks.”

“Well.” Anne cleared her throat, examining Will like a specimen.

Ann knelt in front of him. “I’m Ann Walker. I’m going to take you on an adventure while your parents are getting help. It’s really good that your parents are getting help, right?”

Will nodded.

“This is my friend Anne. Our names are going to be really easy to remember.”

Will didn’t react.

Anne gave a little wave with her fingertips.

“We’re going to start our adventure at McDonalds. How’s that?”

Will smiled a little.

Ann straightened. “Does he have any stuff?”

“Nope,” Debra said. “Do you need vouchers for McDonalds?”

Ann pursed her lips. “Of course not.”

Debra winked. “It’s always polite to ask.”

“Are you ready to go, Will?” Ann asked.

Will glanced at Debra, and then at Anne, and then settled his gaze on Ann.

“Great. Let’s.” 

“Wait, shoot,” Debra said. “Do you have a car seat?”

“Sorry, James usually takes care of that,” Ann said.

“Do you have a spare?” Anne asked.

“No,” Debra said. “Just this once… I’m going to pretend this isn’t happening.”

“Good. Let’s go, Will,” Ann said, walking slowly toward the door so he could decide when to follow her.

“Does anyone follow the law around here?” Anne asked.

***

Anne put her radio on the Disney station for Will, who sat in the back and stared out the window.

Ann directed her all the way to a McDonalds in Greenville, which means they passed two others.

“We need the one with the playground,” Ann said.

“I see. You think he’ll really play?”

“Oh yes. They cannot resist.”

Anne chuckled. “I see you have a system.”

“It’s not always successful, but of course, there are classes and things.” Ann touched Anne’s wrist. “Thanks for doing this. I could have waited for James at the station.”

Anne dropped her hand off the steering wheel to hold Ann’s. “No, this is… nice. This is what spending time with you is like, and I’d like to keep doing that.” Anne’s cheeks felt hot as she spoke.

“Me too,” Ann said, keeping hold of her hand.

At McDonalds, Ann announced ice cream for dinner, which Will was happy to take her up on. Anne declined.

Will and Ann ate ice cream quietly, but with gusto, while Anne checked her work emails. She had an officially-issued Blackberry for the task. Her email was full of fraud alerts and reports of suspicious campus activity at ECU. She uploaded her interview from earlier in the day to the server, where Gillian would have to transcribe it and send it out.

Nothing would come of any of it.

Will ran off to climb the playground equipment.

Anne raised her eyebrows.

Ann smiled. “It will help him sleep. The first night in a new place is always hard.”

“No brandy in his milk?” Anne asked.

Ann swatted her. “Of course not.”

“How long will you have him?”

“Oh, two or three days. His parents will take a parenting class, clean all the shit out of their house, and cool down after their fight--which is what prompted Will to call 911--and things will probably go back to normal.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” Anne said.

Ann shrugged. Then hesitated. “I need to ask you a favor.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t investigate this. Don’t look up police records or ask around or try to figure out what to do. Okay? Let this go.”

“Okay.” Anne wrinkled her nose. “How did you know I was going to look him up?”

“You want to help. And you want to solve problems. And that’s what I like about you.” Ann said, smiling.

“Well,” Anne said. “Well, well, well.”

Her phone vibrated. She checked it. “Sam says Deanna’s killer’s failed to get bond.”

“Good,” Ann’s shoulders sank. “Good.”

Anne watched Will for a moment. “Is he going to throw up all that ice cream?”

“It’s fine.”

***

Will slept in the car during the long drive out to the farmhouse, thanks in part to Anne playing NPR. She nearly fell asleep herself.

They put Will to bed in a room upstairs, and then went back downstairs to the elaborate kitchen, where Ann made coffee. “It’s only seven,” Ann said. “And you didn’t have dinner. Can I make you a salad? Throw some salmon on it?”

Anne’s stomach growled. “Yes. I’m up for that.”

Ann turned on the oven, and then glanced over her shoulder. “And then maybe we could...Netflix and chill?”

Anne grinned. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

They chatted comfortably while Ann cooked and prepared, and then they ate at the kitchen island. 

“How do you know if Will’s all right up there?”

Ann pointed to a speaker on the kitchen counter. “Baby monitor.”

“Ah, good idea.”

Anne took her last bite. “Let me do the dishes.” 

“Leave them for James,” Ann said.

“Ann.” Anne was scandalized.

Ann laughed. “Leave them for me, later. Let’s talk in the living room. More coffee?”

“No thanks. Do you mind if I make a drink?”

“Go ahead.” 

They got up, and Anne filled a glass with ice, and took it to the bar in the living room. Ann turned on the television.

“You want one?” Anne asked. 

“No thank you,” Ann answered.

Anne poured half the ice into a smaller glass and then examined her options. She settled for a bottle of Jack Daniels that looked a few years old and had a fine coating of dust on it. She filled her glass halfway and then brought it to the couch, and sat next to Ann.

Their hips touched.

Ann smiled at her. “This is nice. I haven’t done this...ever.”

Anne wrapped her arm around Ann’s shoulders. “The idea is to relax. And let something just interesting enough wipe your mind clean of all its collected debris from the day.”

Ann leaned into Anne. “So what do you recommend for that?”

“Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?”

“Sounds good.” Ann navigated the remote. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Tim Allen.”

Ann pushed Anne’s thigh. “Does not count.”

“Fine. Jonathan Van Ness.”

“So typical.”

Anne scoffed and took a sip of her drink. “Yours?”

“Tan. I just love fashion.”

“But I’ve yet to see you in a French tuck.”

“Play your cards right, Special Agent, and you might.”

One episode became two, and sitting entangled became nuzzling hair, and stroking knees, and a soft brush of Anne’s lips against Ann’s neck. 

Ann exhaled, and turned to meet Anne’s eyes. 

Anne cupped Ann’s cheek, grinned, and kissed her gently, applying the barest pressure until Ann pushed back. 

There was more eye-gazing, and laughing, and another tender kiss.

Anne sat back. “I’d better go. I don’t want to. You have a child here.”

“I do.” Ann took Anne’s hand. “This was wonderful.”

Anne pressed her forehead to Ann’s. “Indeed. We’ll text tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

They got up and Ann walked Anne to the door, where they shared another kiss.

“Goodnight, Anne,” Ann said.

Anne stroked Ann’s cheek for a moment, and then headed down the porch stairs to her car.

As soon as the car was out-of-sight of Ann’s watchful gaze from the porch, Anne rolled down the windows, put on a 90s party playlist, and drove east, grinning like a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a few chapters ahead in this, so I'll be posting at least once a week. Possibly more because I crave feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGST. Sorry.

“Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” - Matthew 29-30 [NASB], for the Feast Day of St. Matthias, Anglican Church

Anne strode into a classroom at the First Presbyterian Church at 10:00. None of the twelve men sitting around the table seemed happy to see her.

“Special Agent, you’re not needed. This is community management, not emergency management.” Jacob Rutter, Farmville sheriff, frowned. “Or maybe you’re looking for the AA meeting next door?”

“I was invited,” Anne said. She pushed a chair out and sat down in it with a flourish, crossing her legs.

“As a courtesy. And the leather pants?”

“They’re denim. Just ‘shiny,’” Anne said, making air quotes.

Jacob sighed.

“You might as well get started.”

Terry Cromwell leaned over to Anne. “You came for a free lunch, didn’t you?”

Anne winked at him.

***

Anne was doing paperwork in her car, queasy from the lunch and listening to the local news AM radio. 

Marian texted. “When are you coming to visit me? I miss you. Charlotte’s so dull now.”

Anne texted, “You know I’m coming in three weeks. Damn.” She stared at the screen. “Do you mind if I bring someone with me?”

Marian texted, “I hate Mariana. Please, no.”

Anne texted, “Someone new.”

Marian sent back a spray of heart and rainbow emojis, and then, “Yes! Let’s take her to Fahrenheit.”

“Done.”

The phone buzzed, and Anne nearly said “Marian” into it before she saw Gillian’s name on the screen.

“What?”

Gillian said, “Red High School needs you down there for a threat against the president.”

“I’m not near there.” Anne grunted and tossed aside the paperwork on her lap. “A threat?”

Gillian texted her a picture of the school rock, which had been spray-painted “Fuck the president.”

“Really?”

“They’re insisting.”

“Well, they’re not going to like what they get. Do I have anything on my schedule?”

“Only the regularly scheduled meeting with us.”

“Well, cancel that. And tell Pratt and yourself you can close up at three and work from home.”

“He doesn’t like being called that.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell him, Girl Friday.”

Gillian sighed. “You are always so bitchy after community meetings. I’ll send you the address of the school. And the school records of Trevor Gale. Lead suspect.”

“Fine,” Anne said, clicking off the phone. 

She drove to the school.

When she arrived 20 minutes later, maintenance men were scrubbing the rock. 

The principal, Greg Hinsey, was pacing by the main entrance.

Anne parked illegally and walked toward him. “Principal Hinsey.”

“Miss Lister.” He shook her hand.

“Special Agent Lister,” she corrected. “Why did you call me out here?”

“Someone wants to murder the president.”

Anne sighed. “Do they?”

“You can’t say ‘F’ the President, Miss Lister!”

“Fuck the president.”

Greg looked pained. “Please. We would not call you out here if it weren’t serious.”

“Really? You, the white administration of an almost all-black school wouldn’t call the FBI, a very busy organization, because a black boy spray-painted your precious rock?”

Greg faltered. “How did you know he was black?”

“Just take me to him.”

Trevor Gale was sitting unhappily in a classroom, watched by the school resource officer, who had the presence of mind to look embarrassed when Anne flashed her badge, shouted, “FBI!” and strode into the room in her shiny denim pants.

“Damn,” Trevor said. “He really did it.”

“He did.” Anne sat down at a desk across from him. She nodded to the SRO, who left and closed the door.

She studied Trevor for a while, as he twitched and scrubbed his face and shifted around in his chair. 

He said, “I didn’t do it.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?” His expression became alert, interested.

“People lie, but in different ways. You’re not trying to hide microscopic traces of red paint on your hands. You aren’t full of excuses and timelines and shade for Principal Hinsey. You’re… confident in your innocence. You know the Tell-Tale Heart?”

“Yeah, we had to read that last year.” Trevor grinned.

“Too confident.”

“Oh.”

“You know who did it. And you’re protecting them. Which is sweet, Trevor. And you’re the one with the record of saying the “F” word entirely too much to your teachers.”

Trevor sighed.

“So who is it?” Anne asked.

“I’m not going to tell the FBI,” Trevor said.

“They won’t get in trouble,” Anne said.

“Yeah, right. Cops say that all the time.”

Anne leaned forward, catching his eye. “Fuck the president.”

He nearly giggled and put his hand to his mouth. “Fine. It was my sister. She’s only 14. I don’t want her to get kicked out of choir for being stupid and immature. She didn’t tell me until _after_ she did it. Because she’d know what I’d say!”

Anne nodded.

“Come on, you couldn’t have figured that out because I didn’t have paint on my hands. That’s like, a non-clue.”

“You’re due to graduate in a week with a 3.0. You would have waited until after that to spray-paint the school.”

“Yeah, probably.” He studied her. “How do you get to be an FBI agent?” He sighed. “You probably need a college degree, right? I can’t even afford community college.”

“Yes. Here’s how you do it. When you turn 18, walk into a recruiting office. Marines, Navy. Whatever. Sign up. Study. They’ll pay for college when you get out, veterans get hiring preference, and then you can be like me.”

“I don’t want to get killed,” he said.

“You don’t want to leave your sister. I know. Ask her what she thinks.”

“You make it sound so easy.” He frowned.

Anne chuckled. “Well, don’t make it any harder.” She got up.

“What will you tell Principal Hinsey?”

“That you’re innocent.” She pulled out her wallet and handed him a business card. “And that you’ll call him if he continues to bother you. Or your sister. You’ve got one week left, it’ll be okay.”

He put the card in his pocket. “Thanks. Uh. Agent.”

“Special agent. You’re welcome.” She went to the door and smiled at the SRO. “Take me to your leader.”

***

On Thursday, Anne texted Ann, “I’d like to cook for you tomorrow night.”

“Great,” came the reply.

“At your place?”

“... Are you telling me I’m a bad cook?”

“No,” Anne typed. “I have a shitty kitchen and you have… a nice one.”

“An expensive one, you mean. Sure. Come over and try to impress me.”

“I’ll come over at 6. Do you have any, er, children?”

A laughing cat emoji appeared. “Not at the moment. You’re safe, Special Agent.”

Anne wasn’t sure if either of their worlds would behave for another day, but she’d risk it. She sent back a sunglasses smiley emoji.

A rolled-eyed smiley emoji came back.

***

Anne showed up with a Harris Teeter cloth bag full of food, a bottle of wine, and a potted ivy plant. She’d worn her shiny pants again, with a black t-shirt that said FBI in big gold letters.

Ann kissed her at the door and then led her to the kitchen. She wore tight blue jeans and a button-down plaid shirt. Rural chic.

Anne set down the bag and got the plant out. “We haven’t discussed flowers yet.”

“This is charming. It will grow and take over my house and I’ll have you to thank.”

“Yes, well.” Anne couldn’t keep her stupid smile off her face this time. “I’m going to make spaghetti carbonara.”

“Wonderful. And then…” Ann traced her fingers down Anne’s arm. “Do you want to see my library?”

Anne’s eyes widened. “I’d be delighted.”

“Mm.” Ann kissed her. 

Anne kissed her back and then was reluctant to move away. Their noses brushed against each other. 

“What can I do?” Ann asked.

“Open the wine and keep me company? It only takes about 20 minutes. And it makes your house smell like bacon.”

“Oh, the dogs will love that.” Ann grinned. She went to get a wine key. 

Anne unpacked her bag and turned on the stove to heat a pan and a pot to boil water. She chopped pancetta while Ann opened the wine. Ann had the expertise of a girl who went to charm school.

“Impressive,” Anne said. “My corkscrew at my apartment only has one arm.”

“So you really are here out of necessity.” Ann chuckled.

“Absolutely. Tell me about the dogs.” Anne tossed the pancetta into the pan.

“Well, I have three. Outside during the day, inside at night. Unless a kid’s here. Then they sleep in the barn. They’re fine either way. Charlie, the golden retriever. Buddy, the rat mutt. Lorenzo, the pit mix.”

“One of those names is not like the others,” Anne said.

Ann grinned. “Wait until you see Lorenzo up close. He looks like a Lorenzo.” She handed Anne a glass of wine. “Cheers.”

“To new beginnings,” Anne toasted. Their glasses clinked. Anne sipped.

Ann pursed her lips. “How did you find unoaked chardonnay in this area?”

Anne tapped her nose. “That is a secret I’m keeping.” She tossed the spaghetti into boil.

Ann told her a story about Charlie, who came across as friendly but dumb. He was the dog that slept in Ann’s bed most nights, which left Anne jealous and intrigued. She tried to picture Ann’s bedroom.

The timer beeped. Anne piled the spaghetti up, peppered it thoroughly, and added eggs. 

“No cream?”

“Nope. Believe.”

“I believe,” Ann said. She drank her wine and then topped their glasses.

They took their food into the living room.

Ann went to an ornate record player, opened it, and chose a record with deliberation. When she put the needle on the track, Carrie Underwood began to sing. Ann’s movements were precise, graceful, even as she tucked a leg under herself to sit on the couch.

They ate, and talked, and listened to music. Anne received her glowing compliments for boiling things and stirring things.

Anne insisted on doing the dishes and pouring the rest of the wine into their glasses before they settled again on the couch. She faced Ann, one leg dangling off the side.

Ann took a tiny sip of wine and pretended to be demure. There was too much merriment in her face to be convincing.

“You can see so many stars from your porch, Ann. Do you have a telescope? Do you ever wonder about them?”

Ann set down her glass. “Anne Lister. Are you trying to start a conversation?”

Anne raised her eyebrows.

Ann wrapped her arms around Anne’s neck and kissed her solidly.

“Oh.” Anne settled her hands on Ann’s hips and kissed her back, opening her mouth to allow Ann’s suddenly demanding mouth more access. 

Ann moaned first, as Anne, losing breath, peppered kisses at the corner of Ann’s lips. Ann caressed the back of her neck, and then worked her grip into Anne’s hair, tied up as it was by her bun. Then Anne moaned, and their kiss was heated, and Anne’s face warmed.

Anne moved one hand lower, caressing Ann’s thigh.

Ann pulled back. “Uh.”

Anne blinked, a bit dazed from the intensity of their kisses. “Are you all right?”

Ann twisted to sit properly on the couch, her profile facing Anne’s. “Could you, ah, tell me, why you were transferred to Greenville?”

Anne felt a chill. “My reputation is that important to you?”

“Yes. No… Yes. I want to know who I’m dealing with.”

Anne settled into a more relaxed position on the couch, even as her lips longed for Ann’s. “Well. Look at me, Ann.”

Ann looked. 

Anne took a deep breath. “I had an affair with the regional director’s wife. Mariana Lawton.”

Ann’s expression closed in on itself.

“For many years,” Anne said. “She lived in DC and I here, but we were able to see each other...often.”

Ann shifted away from her.

“When Frank Haleton retired, Charles finally got his chance. He transferred me away. I should be lucky it was still in the district, and not Alaska.” Anne chuckled.

Ann frowned warily.

“That’s… it.” Anne trailed off, as Ann wasn’t looking at her.

Ann cleared her throat. “I think you should go.”

Anne’s heart sank. So much for the library. Or the bedroom. “All right.” She didn’t move.

Ann, resolutely, didn’t look at her. 

Anne got up and went to fetch her bag, and headed out the front door. The night was black and moonless. Charlie, the golden retriever, ran up to greet her as she reached her car. She petted him a moment longer than necessary. 

Ann watched from the window.

Anne gave a little wave, which wasn’t returned. Then she got into the Prius, and drove down the long driveway. The music stayed off. She mulled and stewed in the silence as the miles rolled by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone catch the fun Killing Eve easter egg? There will be more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann Walker experiences the middle class.

On Saturday morning, Anne texted Marian. “Fuck!”

Marian texted back ten minutes later. “How did you screw it up already?”

Then another ten minutes and Marian texted again, “Was it Mariana? It was Mariana, wasn’t it?”

Then, immediately. “Text me back, Anne Lister, or I’m going to call you like we’re in Bye, Bye Birdie.”

Anne rolled her eyes. Marian and her musicals. She texted back a frownie face. Then typed, “I’m a bit of a sordid character, aren’t I?”

“No, just an idiot,” Marian replied. And then, “But very loveable.”

Anne sighed. It was her off Saturday, so she went to her tiny library in the second bedroom, and picked up a book in French, and pretended she was in Paris, far away.

***

Anne was standing on the side of I-95 Northbound when Ann texted her.

“I miss you,” Ann texted. “I know it’s selfish, but I think about you all the time.”

Anne replied, “I miss you too. So I will be selfish and be glad you texted.” 

Bill Pargrave, Rocky Mount FBI liaison, was talking to two women, underage Russians, who stood next to a police car. He spoke more Russian than Anne did, but it was all hands on deck for human trafficking. 

Ann texted again. “What are you doing?”

Anne sent back three dots, and then the sunglasses emoji. 

“Oh right. Carry on, sexy, badass special agent.”

Anne replied, “You’re talking to me, but you’re thinking about Agent Scully, aren’t you?”

“You caught me,” Ann texted.

Anne grinned into the morning sun as Bill strolled over. “Hi Anne. We’re taking them straight to Rocky Mount. You shouldn’t even have paperwork.”

“Best news I’ve heard so far. I’m sorry we can’t go for coffee, though.”

“When are you in Rocky Mount next?”

“Hopefully not ever,” she said, slapping his arm.

“Fine. Enjoy your little college town.” He studied her face. “You’re looking rather cheerful. Spill.”

“I may have found someone to spend time with.”

“Someone new?” He asked cautiously.

“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “Someone new.”

***

Anne stood staring at the three shelves of wine at the Speedway.

A throat cleared behind her. “Miss Lister?”

She turned around. “James. How nice to see you.”

“And you, ma’am.” He was holding a Big Gulp. He glanced past her at the wine. “Are you buying wine at the gas station?”

“It’s my little secret, James. He has the best selection in a hundred miles. Mr. Pataki is a born sommelier.”

“Not much of a selection,” James said.

“It’s about quality, not quantity. I’m trying to find something from Washington State.” She mulled.

“There’s one from Virginia. Might cheer up Ann a bit,” he said.

“Ah, yes. Chocolate wine from our friends to the north.” Anne picked up the bottle. “Is Ann not well?”

“Well, she’s, er, normal, I suppose. She spends a lot of time thinking. I don’t know how someone can sit and think that much.”

“Then maybe you should bring her this.” Anne put the bottle in his hands. “I’ll pay for it.”

“Sure. She’d like that. Thanks.” James smiled.

“So, Ann doesn’t drive,” Anne murmured, as if it were a casual comment about the wine.

“No. I’ve tried to teach her a few times, but she gets too anxious. She panics. So I drive her around. But honestly, she barely leaves the house most days. I think her brother dying really knocked the Spirit out of her. God rest his soul.”

“Yes, well. That can take a lot of anyone.” Anne put her hand on James’ shoulder, briefly. Then she picked up a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from California. It would have to do. “Let’s pay for this. And then you can let Miss Walker know I’ll see her soon.” She winked.

James flushed. “Yes, ma’am.”

They walked to the counter and paid, each in their own thoughts about Ann. 

James left and got in his truck. Mr. Pataki was still talking. “I promise you, Anne, you chose the best wine in the store.” He chuckled. “Shame about the farmboy and that chocolate wine, though. It’s my best-seller, but...”

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Pataki. The recipient will be very pleased.”

He grinned. “Well, my suggestion, put it over ice cream.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Anne headed out to her Prius. She put the wine in the trunk to keep it as cool as possible, and then turned her car east, away from Ann’s farm and toward work.

She met lots of interesting people in her work. Mostly friendly, some ornery. Once in a while, someone downright mean. She thought about Deanna, and the family that had lost her too quickly for a little time and patience to take its course. 

Anne had met, but rarely slept with, beautiful women. Not with Mariana in the picture. But here was a woman, Miss Walker, entirely out of place and from a different time. Anne wanted to figure her out. And she wanted more. She wanted Ann to text her in the middle of the night, and cook with her at the kitchen island, and go down to the beach and ride the Ferris wheel. 

She felt unsettled and perfectly content at the same time. And a small part of her was terrified that she was going to muck it all up again, just by being her. She told herself that it didn’t matter, that meeting someone twice would hardly be a loss if there was no third time, but she knew she was a fool.

***

They’d been talking about Lorenzo, the pup.

Anne texted Ann, changing the subject. “It’s Friday night. I was thinking about making reservations somewhere and taking you out on the town.” Her face burned hot as she typed, but she hit send anyway.

The reply was instant. “What place takes reservations?”

“Chili’s?” Anne texted back with a little sombrero.

A longer pause this time. “Is it Mexican?”

“I...guess. They have margaritas.”

“I was never allowed to have Mexican growing up.”

Anne sent a donkey and a margarita.

“Sure. Where?”

“I’ll pick you up at 6? It’s in Goldsboro.”

“Okay.” A pause. “What should I wear?”

Anne’s mouth went dry. She hesitated, then typed, “Casual.”

A thumbs up appeared.

***

Ann greeted her in the driveway with a hug, no kiss this time. They got into the car. Ann reached for the radio. “I’ve been researching your fancy radio, Miss Lister.”

“Oh?”

Ann deftly navigated to the symphony channel. “I discovered we can listen to this.”

Anne frowned. “Must we?”

“It’s good for mental acuity.”

“Well, I’m flattered and pleased you’ve decided to make my radio your new pet.”

Ann grinned shyly.

_Is this what you do all day? Research random shit?_

Anne didn’t ask. _Tell me about your week_ also seemed treacherous territory. Anne finally led with, “Did James tell you we ran into each other?”

“Yes, thank you for the wine. We had it over vanilla ice cream. Exquisite. Even James got a little tipsy, and had to walk home in the dark.”

Anne grinned. “Well, if you’ve got the radio, I get at least one of the dogs.”

“You can have Buddy. He gets into everything.”

“Great.” Anne pictured Buddy with his head out the window, inhaling the fresh air. She smiled.

Ann chuckled, and leaned against the window, peering at her.

Anne said, “I’m glad you’re… willing to spend more time together.” She expected a glib response, like _I have nothing else to do_.

“I want to. And I rarely want anything. Elizabeth’s always telling me… seize the day, or whatever. I think she wants to live vicariously through me. She’s unhappily married with four children. _Four_ , Anne. And I’m frustrating her.”

“Well, we’ll send her a selfie at Chili’s and make her regret everything,” Anne said.

“Perfect.” Ann laughed, and its musicality put the symphony to shame.

***

They sat at the bar, because Ann Walker was a woman who didn’t get out much, and it was fun. There was a young black couple, man and woman, to their left and two older white men to their right in overalls. Both groups politely ignored them as they got settled.

Ann Walker, in designer jeans and an American Eagle tee-shirt that somehow looked tailored, sat daintily with her Converse-wearing feet on the railing, and her hands neatly folded on the bar. She looked younger than she was, and Anne had trouble focusing.

“I’ll have a skinny margarita,” Ann said when the bartender, who had an intriguing swish in his hips, approached them.

“Yes ma’am. And you?” He looked to Anne.

“El Presidente,” she said.

He swished away. 

“Skinny margarita?” Anne asked.

“I studied the menu. I like to be prepared.”

“It’s not a job interview.”

Ann looked sideways at her, grinning. “Then I’ll let you order the food. I could not figure it out. No burgers, please.”

“This is your first time, right? At Chili’s?”

“Yes,” Ann said.

“There’s no choices. It’s fajitas all the way.”

The black woman leaned over to them. “It’s your first time?”

Ann’s cheeks tinted pink.

Anne rested her arm on the back of Ann’s chair. “Not mine.” She winked at the woman.

“Thomas,” the woman said. “Fireball shots down the row. Those guys, too,” she gestured to the older men. 

“Okay, Sylvia.”

“Thanks,” one of the men said, nodding to Sylvia.

Sylvia stuck out her hand. “Sylvia. And Charles. We live here in Goldsboro.”

“Anne Lister,” Anne said, giving a firm handshake. 

Ann offered her hand. “Ann Walker.”

“Two Anns?” Sylvia said.

“I know, right?” Anne said.

“Must be destiny.” Sylvia said.

Ann beamed. She put her hand on Anne’s thigh.

Their margaritas arrived, and then their shots of Fireball.

Ann looked doubtful. “I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“It’s cinnamon. It’s very pleasant. Like a liquor,” Anne said.

The six toasted, and then drank.

Ann licked her lips, and smiled. “That was… pretty good. Thank you, Sylvia.”

“You’re welcome. You get shrimp with those fajitas. Don’t let tall, dark, and handsome Anne cheat you out of those.”

Ann looked pointedly at Anne.

“I know how to treat a lady,” Anne said, elbowing Sylvia.

Thomas returned and Anne ordered all of the fajitas, and then warned Ann, “This will get your hands messy.”

Ann leaned closer to Anne’s ear. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

Anne blushed and grinned.

The six exchanged light discussion about the high school football game on television, and then the fajitas came.

Anne delighted in watching Ann assemble a fajita. Her deliberate, careful movements were enchanting. First sauce, then lettuce, then meat, like a professional. 

Ann took her first bite. Ranch dressing ran down her wrist onto her shirt. “Oh my god,” she said. “This tastes…” She chewed, and swallowed. “Anne, thank you.”

Anne smiled, and sipped her gigantic margarita, and felt very happy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann attempts to explain her earlier behavior. Also fluff, angst, fluff. Slightly NSFW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caveat emptor.

My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills;  
And hope that is unwilling to be fed;  
Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills;  
And mighty Poets in their misery dead.  
—Perplexed, and longing to be comforted,  
My question eagerly did I renew,  
"How is it that you live, and what is it you do?"

  * William Wordsworth, 1807



“This was fun,” Ann said, as they hit the highway. The Jimmy Buffet station was playing quietly, making it easy to talk over. 

“It was. I’m glad… You texted. After last week,” Anne said.

Ann looked straight ahead. “I have so many questions. But is it any of my business?”

“Are you going to chuck me out of my own car if I talk about it?” Anne glanced at Ann, and then back at the road. 

Ann exhaled. “I’m sorry about that. It was a shocking moment. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t--I’ve never--had those kinds of conversations before.”

“You deserve to make yourself feel safe.” No need for Anne to ruminate on all the other times, mostly job-related, where Anne wasn’t welcome, and how that had made her feel. “So you have questions? Or something you want to say?”

Ann took several minutes to gather her thoughts. Then she said, “Adultery is wrong. Always. No matter what. I’m not talking about the Bible.” She studied her hands.

“I have a lifetime of experience to back that up. My years with Mariana were… wasted. And unkind. And Charles, well. We all handled it in different ways.”

“Have you been with other married women?” Ann asked.

“Maybe. I stopped asking. But I was in love with Mariana. I wanted to marry her. And when I couldn’t--I didn’t give up. I kept at it.” Anne shook her head. She had been stupid, and Mary had been… glad to see her. 

Ann took a deep breath. “When you told me, I just pictured you with another woman--I don’t even know what she looks like--and suddenly you were a real person, with a real life and a history, and not just my new… my new thing.”

“Your new thing?” Anne allowed herself a smile.

“I’ve never done this before,” Ann said. “But I’ve had lots and _lots_ of therapy. So maybe I can do this. Dating.” She gestured.

Anne glanced at her, and Ann met her eyes.

“Just remember, I’ve lived a life. I’m used goods, Ann.”

“Used goods.” Ann let out a choked sort of sound.

“Ann?” Anne glanced over again. 

Ann had closed in on herself, and was staring straight ahead again. 

Anne reached for her hand.

Ann waved it away. “I’m fine. I’m just processing.”

Anne focused on the road. It was the first time, at least that she could recall, that Ann had lied to her. She felt sadness in her chest. 

“Play something loud,” Ann said.

Anne turned the radio to heavy metal.

They listened to the screaming, lost in their own thoughts.

***

Anne pulled into Ann’s driveway. The dogs ran to greet them. Anne got out of the car and paid special attention to Buddy, remembering Ann’s joke that Buddy could be hers, now. 

“Come in,” Ann said.

“I don’t know,” Anne said, straightening. Buddy, undeterred, licked her fingers. 

“It’s late. I don’t want you driving all the way back to Greenville in the dark. After you’ve been drinking.”

It was merely ten o’clock and she’d driven them an hour from Goldsboro already, but Anne was unwilling to protest. She got her always-packed go bag from the trunk and followed Ann into the house with the dogs.

Ann locked the door. She said, “Thank you for the night. Is that… what normal people do?”

“Normal?”

Ann mused. They walked into the kitchen. “Middle class?”

“It’s a fun option,” Anne said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“James is always telling me I should get out more. But I don’t know… how to go about it.”

Anne nodded. 

Ann made them glasses of ice water with lemon. She leaned against the island. “So you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.” Anne said. “Guest room?”

“No.” Ann paused. “Just to sleep.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know…” Ann sipped her water. “I’ve never had anyone sleep next to me except Elizabeth. Or Catherine. But you make me feel safe. Maybe because you’re an FBI agent. Maybe you’re just… tall and handsome.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe you should just go home.” She turned away.

Anne walked to Ann and put her hands on Ann’s shoulders, from behind. Ann relaxed. She reached up and clasped Anne’s hand. “I trust you.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ann,” Anne said. “Don’t hurt me.”

Ann turned around in her arms, and smiled up at her. 

Anne hugged Ann close. Her heart was pounding. The alcohol left her sleepy and languid. Ann smelled like smoke and meat. Anne said, “Let’s go take showers, and sleep, and worry about what to worry about in the morning.”

Ann squeezed her tightly. “Okay.”

Upstairs, Anne and her go bag settled into the guest bathroom. She showered, and took advantage of the blow dryer there to blow out her hair and change into her pajamas. 

She went to Ann’s room, and tentatively knocked. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Anne walked in, in her striped pajama shirt and pants, and Ann, already sitting in bed under the covers, stared at her. The expression on Ann’s face was pure lust.

Anne swallowed.

Ann’s ethereal nightgown wasn’t doing Anne any favors, either. She approached the bed and slipped into it. “You look beautiful,” she said.

“Your hair,” Ann said, reaching for her hair, running fingers through it, coming close to Anne’s face in the process. “You did a blowout. You look like… a conqueror. A lion. Powerful.”

Anne’s breath caught. She turned slightly and found Ann’s lips, and kissed her slowly, with patience her body was unwilling to assist with. Ann’s hand dropped to her shoulder and held her in the kiss, exploring her lips with sure, hungry touches. 

“Ann,” Anne whispered.

“I know,” Ann said, leaning back, their lips parting. “It’s… too soon.”

Anne touched Ann’s cheek. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“I want to be close to you,” Ann said. “But I don’t even know what that means.”

Anne sunk down into the bed, resting her head on the pillow, facing Ann. “One moment at a time.”

Ann turned out the light, and settled, facing Anne in the semi-darkness. She reached out, and Anne clasped her fingers, and they smiled together. 

“Goodnight, Anne,” Ann said.

Anne kissed the back of Ann’s hand. “Goodnight.” She closed her eyes. 

***

Anne woke before Ann, and debated getting out of bed to make a chivalrous breakfast. But her arm around sleeping Ann’s waist felt so cozy, and right, and her face pressed against Ann’s hair allowed her the intoxicating scent of strawberries. 

The sun began to shine through the big, east-facing window, and Ann stirred. She pushed Anne’s arm off of her, and then twisted around in bed. “Anne?”

“Good morning,” Anne said, propping herself up on elbow. 

Ann beamed at her. “Good morning.” She cupped Anne’s cheek, and then lazily rolled closer to kiss her. 

“Mm.” Anne closed her eyes as Ann’s mouth pressed hers. Her body woke up, alerting her to the thin fabric of Ann’s gown, the warm, tugging lips, the pulse beating between them.

“Anne,” Ann said again, and then deepened the kiss, opening her mouth to Anne and rolling onto her back, bringing Anne with her. Their kisses became heated. Anne stroked Ann’s arm, up and down, and then moved to her breast, grazing across the fabric.

Ann arched, offering more of herself, and Anne found Ann’s hard nipple, stroking it, before pressing more of her body into Ann’s. Ann’s own hands found her breasts, equally as eager as her kisses, and they squirmed together, until Anne’s leg was between Ann’s, and they began to move. 

Ann froze at the pressure of Anne’s thigh against her center. “Wait, stop.”

“What?” Anne pushed herself onto her elbows. 

Ann pushed at her chest. “Off. Please.” She was breathing hard, not looking at Anne.

Anne scooted to the other side of the bed. “Ann, are you all right?”

Ann lay on her back, gazing at the ceiling, still breathing with labored gasps. 

Anne waited, torn between retreating and reaching out, her mind racing to analyze what had happened, what she had done, what Ann might be thinking.

“I’m sorry,” Ann said. Her eyes were watery with tears. “It’s… it’s too soon.”

“It’s fine. It’s okay. Ann, really. I shouldn’t have pushed.” Anne got up and stood by the side of the bed. 

Ann took a gulping breath.

“Let me cook you breakfast, okay?”

“Okay,” Ann said. She turned her head, looked at Anne’s face, sad.

“Come down when you’re ready.”

Anne retreated to the guest room, where she quickly dressed in her backup suit. She found fruit and cheese and made toast. She was attempting to figure out the coffee machine when Ann came down.

Ann had dressed in yesterday’s clothes, the designer jeans and the ranch-stained tee shirt. She looked drained and awful.

“Sit,” Anne said. “There’s toast.”

Ann sat mechanically, but didn’t eat. 

Anne gave up on coffee, poured them both water, and then sat down at the island next to Ann. “Ann.”

“You must hate me,” Ann said.

“Of course I don’t hate you. I pushed you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was… I don’t know what happened.”

“Well, it’s a beautiful morning. Let’s eat, Ann.”

This time, Ann ate some fruit, while Anne devoured buttered toast. “I have a meeting in Greenville at 10. I can stay around for a bit before then, though.”

“A meeting?” Ann looked at her, still vacantly, and asked, “On a Saturday?”

“Yes. Crime never stops.” Anne attempted a smile.

“I’ll explain.” Ann reached for Anne’s hand, clutched it. “Not today.”

“That’s fine. I’m not upset, Ann.”

“I’m upset!” Ann squeezed Anne’s hand, clung to it. “I want to be with you, Anne.”

“There’s no hurry.”

Ann sat stiffly, but her hand in Anne’s was burning hot, and pressing tight.

Anne moved forward and kissed Ann’s forehead. “If this was the olden days, we’d have a chaperone and everything.”

Ann chuckled. She pressed her cheek to Anne’s. “Thanks for being here.”

Anne swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’re welcome.”

Ann made coffee, and they sat on the porch, looking out at the gardens, not saying much. The dogs came and played and went. Birds chattered. Squirrels chased each other. 

Anne thought she could get used to this.

Her calendar app beeped. She sighed. “I have to drive out there, Ann. I’ll call you tonight, okay?” 

Ann nodded, holding her coffee.

Anne got up, and then leaned in for a quick kiss. “I won’t be far.”

Ann smiled at her, and got up, and walked around the porch to watch her leave.

***

Anne got to the office at a quarter to ten, but her appointment was already there, sitting nervously in the waiting area, next to a scowling Gillian.

“Hello. Jack Darby, isn’t it?” Anne said.

Jack stood and shook her hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Come in. I’ve already reviewed what you told us, I just want to talk it over with you and get some clarification.”

Jack swallowed.

“Do you drink coffee, Mr. Darby?”

“Uh, Jack. Yes.”

“Gillian, make some coffee.” Anne brought Jack to her office, where she sat down across from him. She tugged her suit straight, started a tape recorder, and tried to look as if the confidence of the whole government was in her.

“I sent you the photographs,” Jack said. “The cops, they’re selling drugs. And not a little bit, neither.”

“Go on, Jack.”

***

When Jack had finished, Gillian took the tape recorder to type up a transcript without much enthusiasm. “We’ve been trying to nail that police department for years. Jack isn’t the first.”

“Call the Justice Department, anyway. If they have that open file… we have an addendum.”

“Will do. Are you all right? You look as if someone’s shot your dog,” Gillian said.

Anne sat down in the waiting area chair. “My new friend… She. She thought things were getting too intimate.”

“And put a stop to it?”

“Full stop.”

“Your charms must be insulted,” Gillian said, offering a smile.

“More like...grieving.” Anne looked out the window. “I saw terror in her, but not of me. So of what? My heart and my head both want to get to the bottom of it.”

“You know better than to sniff around.”

“I know. I must wait,” Anne said. She looked ruefully at Gillian. “It is a fragile, precarious thing, and I feel like a lumbering brute. A bull in a china shop.”

“Not much of a dater, are you?” Gillian asked.

Anne thought of Mariana. “I’ve never had to. I’ve had what I’ve needed… for a long time.” She pursed her lips. “You?”

“Being who I am is exhausting,” Gillian said. “But I tried it the other way, and it was unbearable. Nothing to do but live with the inevitable consequences of your clumsiness and your horns.”

“Fantastically bleak advice. Well. Are the boys in North Carolina sweeter than the boys up north?”

Gillian wrinkled her nose. “If I get called ‘ma’am’ one more fucking time…”

“I’ll toast to that.”

***

Anne met the pastor of Victory Church as he greeted parishioners in front of the sanctuary. “Calvin,” she said, hugging him.

“Anne! Is it our turn again? I know we’re meeting with the Greenville Council on Wednesday.”

“Yes. And it’s not your turn. I just felt a calling. So I switched you and First Baptist around.” She grinned.

“You’re always welcome here, Anne.” He held her shoulders and took her in. She was taller than him by a couple of inches, and wore a smart black suit and a long amethyst necklace that reached her stomach over her white blouse. 

“Thank you, Calvin. Want me to sit in the back?” She winked.

He laughed. “I want you right out front.”

“Anne?”

Anne turned around, and Ann Walker, in a demure grey dress, stood there in front of her, holding a purse. “Ann?”

“What are you doing here?” Ann asked.

“I visit all the churches.” 

Ann took her elbow and they walked across the lobby. In a low voice, Ann asked, “Are there terrorists?”

“No, no. It’s just… community emergency management stuff. What are you doing here?”

Ann kept her grasp on Anne’s arm. “This is my church.”

“Your church?”

“Yes. We must have missed each other, if you’ve been here before.”

“Only twice. But I see Pastor Calvin once a month at the county coordination meetings.”

Ann nodded. “Would you like to sit with me?”

Anne looked around. “Where’s James?”

“He goes to Coventry Baptist. He dropped me off.”

“Okay. Yes. I would love to be with you, Ann.”

Ann smiled, and still holding onto her, they walked into the sanctuary and found a pew. “I was so afraid when I saw you again things would be… different.”

“But they’re not?”

“No.” Ann squeezed her. 

The church held mostly black parishioners, though Ann wasn’t the only one adding diversity. There were mixed couples, and children of all colors. 

“How did you find this place?” Anne asked.

“I did some work with some of the mothers. You know. From what I do.”

Anne nodded.

“And they invited me here. And I felt… totally free from the conventional trappings of the Virginia Presbyterians. Utterly alive. James says Baptists are Baptists and I should go with him, but when Calvin wrapped his arms around me my first day, I realized I hadn’t been hugged in two years. Not even at my brother’s funeral.”

Anne nodded.

Ann was still tucked against her shoulder, unconcerned with closeness or propriety. “Are you looking for a spiritual home, Anne?”

“Oh, God. No. I’m Anglican.” Anne bit her lip and frowned. “I mean, Episcopalian. The church I go to in Wilson converted quite a long time ago.”

“You should take me, sometime.”

“I’m usually working on Sunday mornings, but I think…” Anne pulled out her phone and brought up the Facebook page. “They’re doing a pet blessing in a few weeks. Let’s bring the dogs.”

Ann’s smile was radiant. “I’d love that.”

The music began, and Anne put away her phone, and Ann leaned into her, as the service began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we think Anne Lister read Wordsworth? I think yes, but I haven't been able to find the evidence.
> 
> Also, I've been liveblogging the weird stuff I come across while working on this fic over on twitter. @ryslerfic


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Thomas Ainsworth

_The effects of an atmosphere loaded with noxious vapours on the animal body are often striking... There are swampy situations in the Carolinas and Virginia which are destructive of life in a still more remarkable degree: "I am credibly informed (says Dr. Jackson) that there is not on record and instance of a person, born in Peterborough in Virginia, constantly residing in the same place, who has lived to the age of 21."_

  * Alexander Phillip Wilson Phillip, A Treatise on Febrile Diseases, read by Anne Lister “very attentively” on April 4, 1835. 



Anne made a selfie Ann had taken with Lorenzo the background of her phone. She’d be embarrassed if Ann saw it, but every so often she’d activate her screen and look at them, and smile.

She and Ann texted often; talking on the phone was too intimate, too much like touching, and would leave them both sexually frustrated but unwilling to move forward. So Ann asked if Anne liked backgammon and Anne asked if Ann liked cribbage, and Anne hoped that when she was in the paper for helping take down a pedophile ring, Ann wouldn’t see it. But Ann did, and sent her a photograph of the paper, the actual newspaper, and said how badass she looked. 

Anne went to the gym, and to meetings she was invited to, and meetings she wasn’t invited to, and a week and a half passed. 

Then Ann texted, “When can you get away before sunset sometime? I’d like to take a walk with you in the gardens. And talk.”

‘And talk’ sent dread through Anne, but being in Ann’s presence and the gardens sounded like an invitation, not a separation, so she had Gillian cancel a few meaningless appointments on Thursday.

When they confirmed for Thursday, Ann texted, “And stay the night?”

Anne was glad Ann couldn’t see the stupid grin on her face, the sudden release of tension that made her positively turn to jelly. “Okay.” She texted.

On Thursday it was off to Speedway to buy French wine that cost double what it might in Charlotte or Raleigh, and not complain, and take it and head to the Walker farm. They hadn’t discussed cooking. They hadn’t discussed anything. Butterflies flew in Anne’s stomach like she was a teenager.

Ann met her at the door with a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. Then it was dropping the overnight bag in the kitchen, and being offered and declining a glass of water, and walking outside, hand in hand, with Ann.

The May air was hot, and Anne wished for sunglasses, but the expression of wistfulness on Ann’s face meant no hiding. They walked through the gardens and to the woods beyond the empty pastures. They walked for a good twenty minutes, holding hands, not talking, until they came to a clearing with a fire pit and artfully placed logs to sit on.

“Do you want me to build a fire?” Anne asked.

“Anne if you could build a fire here, with just sticks or something, I might die,” Ann said, and smiled.

They sat on a log, facing each other, hands together. Dogs moved around them, and Anne took in the emptiness of the place, the solitude. There was nothing around them but trees. No traffic sounds, no airplanes overhead. Just loam and pine and her and Ann.

“You wanted to talk,” Anne said, nearly choking on her own words with her nervousness.

“About last week. When I… when we couldn’t be close.” Ann said. She spoke as if she’d rehearsed this.

“I told you, it doesn’t matter—“

“Shssh. It does.”

“Okay.” Anne met her gaze, and went into listening mode. She had heard the spectrum of stories and news before, and could be open to anything. But this was Ann, and Ann was vulnerable, and Anne was worried.

“I’ve never been with a woman,” Ann said.

“Never?” Anne cursed herself for already losing focus on listening. She shook her head slightly, and focused on Ann’s face.

“No. I was always too busy. Finishing school and violin and French lessons and painting. At college, I might have. I had a crush on Jane Bower. My roommate. She was dating Thomas Ainsworth. And he—he.” Ann stopped, and inhaled an onslaught of tears.

“Ann,” Anne said. She rubbed Ann’s hands in her own.

“He was always touching me. And commenting to me. And whispering in my ear. And it was.. inappropriate. But Jane was so enraptured with him. She said, ‘wasn’t it nice to be included?’ Because I was so shy, such a loner. She said he was wooing me in order to make a good impression on her.”

Anne didn’t want to hear this. Only her training kept her focus on Ann’s face, and her hands soft in Ann’s grip, while the rest of her remained utterly frozen.

“He would come to my room, pretending to look for Jane, and he would… touch me. And if only someone had listened.” Her face implored Anne. “If only someone would have believed me.”

The dogs sensed Ann’s distress and surrounded her. Lorenzo put his head in her lap, and Buddy jumped up behind her on the log. Charlie sat on her foot.

“There was one night. He came in, and he’d been drinking, and Jane had refused him—I don’t know why. And he was frustrated and…” Ann looked away from Anne’s gaze. “He had me.”

“Oh, Ann.” Anne brought Ann’s hands to up and kissed the knuckles.

Ann’s tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I’ve never been with anyone else. I can only see him. Only feel him. _Smell_ him. And then the voices came back then, and they were so angry with me, for being a whore, and they took me away.”

“Ann, I’m so sorry,” Anne said. A lifetime of service kept her from jumping up to kill Thomas Ainsworth, to focus on the victim, instead, to focus on support. 

Ann rolled her shoulders back and faced Anne again. “I didn’t think that I would ever meet anyone who would… make me want to move past it. I thought I was trapped forever. But you…”

Anne scooted forward on the log and took Ann into her arms. “I do. I’m here, Ann. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ann breathed into her shirt, but didn’t cry, and Anne held her until a chill came into the air, and the sky darkened. 

“We should get back,” Anne said.

“I know.” Ann sat up. “This is my favorite place.”

Anne stood and offered her hand. “Next time I _will_ make a fire.”

Ann took her hand. “I can’t wait.”

***

Ann made Greek pasta with olives and feta and a rotisserie chicken that James had dropped off. They ate and drank the French wine and watched _The Crown_ on Netflix. Anne pretended everyone on screen was her relative and Ann didn’t believe her.

Then they cleaned up and played backgammon and then both read their phones for a bit, until 10 o’clock came, sounding on the antique grandfather clock, and Ann stood and invited Anne to bed.

“Brush your teeth,” Ann said. “When you shower.”

Anne grinned. Then hesitated. “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“This is random. But. You’ve never… but Samuel Washington knew you were gay. He told me.”

Ann’s brow furrowed. “I checked the box on the foster care paperwork. I was so… done pretending. It was the first time I ever said, ‘Fuck it.’ The sheriff must have done my background check.”

Anne nearly giggled. “You said, ‘Fuck it’?”

“Only that once.” Ann swatted her stomach. “Go upstairs.”

Anne went up to the bathroom. She’d chosen her best pajamas. Polyester-cotton blend that was as soft as anything she’d ever felt, solid, dark blue color. She showered and brushed her teeth twice, and stood looking at herself in the mirror. Contemplating make-up to cover the lines on her face. But Ann didn’t seem to care about that.

She went to Ann’s room, and knocked.

“Come in.” 

Ann was sitting on the bed, cross-legged. She wore a grey workout shirt that said “Ruth Bader Guns-Berg” with a picture of the judge with bulging biceps, and grey shorts. 

“Nice shirt,” Anne said.

“Are you staring at my chest?”

“Now I am.”

Ann folded her arms. She’d pulled down the blankets to the end of the bed, and sat on the sheet. 

Anne came and sat on the edge of the bed. She was fidgeting. “Where’s Charlie?”

“In the barn.” Ann smiled. She reached for Anne’s hand.

Anne clasped hers. “You’re in charge.”

“I’m in charge?”

“Totally.”

“Did we not just discuss my lack of experience?”

Anne scooted closer. “I trust that you know what feels good. And what doesn’t.”

Ann’s skin was pink, all the way down to the neck of her shirt. Her gaze stayed on Anne’s as she brought Anne’s linked hand to her lips, and kissed the back of it. Then she turned it over and kissed Anne’s palm.

“See,” Anne said breathlessly. “That feels good.”

“It would help if you kissed me,” Ann said.

Anne moved up to the head of the bed, settling next to Ann, and kissed her, her hand in Ann’s in Ann’s lap. Ann seemed to come alive in the kiss, deepening it. She abandoned Anne’s hand in order to wrap herself around Anne’s neck and pull her closer. Her tongue found Anne’s, and she let out a little sigh.

“I could kiss you forever,” Ann said.

“Me too.”

They kissed again, and Anne leaned back against the headboard, tempting Ann to follow her, until Ann climbed into her lap and had her way with Anne’s mouth. Her legs were outside of Anne’s, and all avenues of escape were opened to her. She chose to stay close to Anne, their chests pressing together as Ann abandoned her mouth to kiss her cheek, and then her jaw, and then her neck. 

“You smell good,” Ann murmured against Anne’s hair.

Anne kept her hands lightly on Ann’s hips, even though she wanted to crush Ann to her, to feel her everywhere at once, to kiss her until her lips were raw.

Ann, having the angle, arched up to kiss Anne’s forehead. “Tell me what’s next,” she said, squirming in Anne’s lap.

“I have an idea,” Anne said. She pulled away as much as possible from Ann, and took off her pajama shirt. She sat, bare-breasted, centimeters from Ann.

Ann’s eyes filled with tears.

“Whoops.” Anne reached for the shirt.

“No.” Ann stopped her. “I just never thought I’d be this close to anyone. That this was available to me.” She looked at the ceiling, a tear dripping. “That this was an option.”

“I’m very glad you were wrong about that,” Anne said.

Ann smiled, sniffled, and met her eyes. “Me too.” She kissed Anne, and put her hand on Anne’s shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, Anne.”

Anne cleared her throat. She sat still as Ann traced down her breast, avoiding her nipple, feeling the weight of it in her hand. She then pressed her palm to the tip, the nipple hard against her skin. She pressed her forehead to Anne’s, breathing fast. 

“You feel indescribable,” Ann said. 

Anne rolled her head back against the headboard and offered a smug smile.

Ann bent and kissed Anne’s shoulder. She stroked Anne’s belly, then up between her breasts, over her heart, and cupped her neck. “Can we be undressed?”

“Yes,” Anne said. 

Ann left Anne’s lap, but still stayed kneeling, and reached for the hem of her t-shirt.

Anne gazed into the middle distance.

“Watch,” Ann said. 

Anne watched, and Ann pulled off her shirt. “You make me feel… on fire...when you look at me like that.” Ann shimmied out of her shorts, and knelt at Anne’s side, letting Anne take her in.

Ann had golden, almost-copper curls between her legs, legs that seemed to go on forever. Anne ached to reach for her, but resisted, and shucked her pants. 

Ann looked unabashed at Anne. “You must let me know your personal groomer.”

“She is the Lady Schick.”

Ann took Anne’s hand again, demurely, and asked, “Would you lie down?”

“On my back?”

“Yes.”

Anne stretched out on the bed, adjusting pillows under her head so she could see Ann sitting next to her hip. 

Ann rubbed Anne’s stomach in slow circles, and then bent to kiss it, just above the belly button. Then, crouching, she kissed her way to Anne’s breast.

“Ann,” Anne breathed, arching up for her.

Ann took Anne’s breast into her mouth, at first just tasting, her tongue flat against her nipple. Then came the suction, and the swirling, chasing tongue, and Anne had to close her eyes. It was too much, to have Ann touch her. 

Ann knelt over Anne to reach the other breast, pulling and tugging with her mouth until they matched, glistening and swollen. 

“Anne,” Ann whispered hoarsely. “Look at me.”

Anne opened her eyes. Ann sat back on Anne’s right thigh, her wetness apparent. She placed her hand flat on Anne’s stomach, and then rubbed downward, until she was between Anne’s legs, dipping one finger into Anne’s arousal, and then more.

Anne groaned. She fought closing her eyes, fought rocking against Ann’s exploring fingers. 

“Anne.” Ann bit her lip. “Inside?”

“Yes.” 

Then Ann entered her, moving her finger easily and eagerly. “Like this?”

“Yes, Ann. My God.” 

Ann and Anne watched together as Ann’s hand moved. Anne could barely breathe. She wanted more. Her body screamed for more, begged for Ann’s touch. “Ann,” she said. “Press your thumb...as hard as you can.”

Ann’s thumb slid across her clit. Anne finally moved, jerking her hips to meet Ann’s touch, and then rocking, unable to stop. Ann sat, fascinated, still meeting Anne stroke for stroke, until Anne trembled, coming.

“Ann,” Anne sagged against the pillows. “Stop now.”

Ann withdrew, and rested her damp hand on Anne’s hip. “I didn’t know...how happy it would make me to see you have an orgasm. I was so wrapped up in my fear. And then you… I felt so powerful.”

“Yeah,” Anne murmured, feeling incoherent.

Ann stretched out on her side, facing Anne on the bed. She looked down Anne’s body, and then back to her face. “Will you touch me?”

Anne turned to face her. She cupped Ann’s cheek, and brushed her lips against Ann’s. “Ann.”

“Yes?” Ann’s bright, open gaze entreated Anne.

“What if I use my mouth?”

“Oh, God.” As an answer, Ann rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She grasped for Anne’s hand, and Anne caressed her fingers while she knelt in front of the bed. 

“Come closer,” Anne said.

Ann scooted down, using Anne’s grip for leverage. Her legs were splayed open.

“Stop me,” Anne said. “If you need to--”

“There’s no more stopping,” Ann said. She was panting, looking down at Anne. 

Anne pressed a kiss to Ann’s inner thigh, and then moved up, only touching Ann with her mouth. She kissed the curls that protected Ann’s center. Ann’s free hand was clenched into a fist. 

Anne licked the crease of Ann’s hip, avoiding her folds, struggling to be gentle as the scent of Ann’s arousal drew her in.

“Please, Anne,” Ann said. 

Anne kissed her again, and then gently dipped into Ann, tasting her. She nosed into Ann. 

Ann’s hand moved to her head. “Please,” she said again.

Anne traced Ann’s clit with her tongue, and when met with no resistance, applied more pressure, until she was consuming Ann with her mouth, and Ann began thrusting against her. 

Ann gasped her name, and twisted. Anne licked and sucked steadily, moving with Ann. 

Ann’s hips stilled, and she let go of Anne’s hair.

Anne lifted her head. “Ann?”

Ann was pressing a fist against her mouth, and crying.

“Ann.” Anne moved up to Ann’s side, and Ann reached for her.

Anne held her tightly. Tension wracked Ann’s body. She hid against Anne’s neck.

“Tell me what’s a matter. Darling.”

Ann inhaled sharply. “I can’t come.”

“It’s the first time, there’s bound to be some getting used to things--”

“I want to be with you,” Ann said. “God damn it.”

“I know.” Anne rubbed her back. “I know.”

Ann gathered herself, and wiped tears from Anne’s neck. 

“I have an idea,” Anne said.

“You always have an idea,” Ann said. She laughed.

“Let’s get dressed. I’ll get Charlie, and… do you have ice cream?”

“I always have ice cream.” Ann offered a watery smile.

“Ice cream in bed,” Anne said.

Ann nodded, looking down at herself. 

Anne slipped out of bed and put on her pajamas. She kissed Ann’s head, and then went to find her shoes.

***

Anne woke up, spooned around Ann, with Charlie pressed firmly against her back. She groaned. “Charlie, get off.”

Charlie snuggled closer. 

Anne carefully reached past Ann to grab her phone off the bedside table. 5:34 AM. “Ann.” She nudged Ann’s shoulder.

“Mm?”

“Ann, I’ve got to go. I’ve got work.” 

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s 5:30. I’ll text you when I get to the office.”

Ann sighed, and pressed into her pillow.

Anne climbed out of bed and went to shower.

In the kitchen, Anne took a piece of paper from the grocery list pad, and contemplated what to write that would express “I’m not leaving you, I’m just leaving for work.” It was unfair to leave Ann uncertain. 

She settled for, “I’m yours,” and set it under a candle on the island. 

***

Anne was on her third cup of coffee when Mariana called. Ignoring it would just be delaying the inevitable and invite texts every hour until Anne finally answered. So she picked up the phone.

“Hello, Mariana.”

“Anne.”

Mariana’s cool voice usually sent excitement down Anne’s spine, but she felt nothing. Only a memory of past excitement.

Mariana said, “Charles is going to a conference in Seattle. I thought I could fly down there for a few days. To Charlotte. Not to whatever hurricane-infested backwater you’re in.”

“Mariana, it’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” 

Anne hesitated. Then she sighed. “I’m seeing someone.”

“You’re seeing someone? You’re mine, Anne,” Mariana said.

“And you’re Charles’s.” Anne voice rose. “It’s time to let this go, Mariana. This farce.”

“Who is she?” 

“Let’s just say I’ve traded you in for a younger model.” Anne winced at her desire to hurt Mariana.

“Anne, you’re not like that. You love me. And I love you. I’ve proven it to you over and over.”

“Have you?”

“Who else knows you so well? This new woman? Really? She’s willing to… put up with you the way I have? Your strangeness? To hop on a plane and travel across the country just to be with you?”

Anne squeezed her eyes shut. “She’s willing to try. Mariana, you and I fell in love when we were children. Maybe it’s time to grow up.”

“Anne.” Mariana’s voice was softer. “I’ve never cheated on you.”

_Except with Charles_.

Mariana continued. “I know there’ve been other women. But you always come back to me. And I’m always here for you.”

“Don’t come,” Anne said. “Not this time.”

“Well, what on earth am I going to do? Be alone?”

“I don’t fucking know, Mariana. But I’m not going to be alone, waiting for you to show up when it’s convenient for you. I’m hanging up now.”

“Anne!”

Anne hung up the phone, and felt awful, and wrung out. She glanced at her coffee. She picked up her phone and texted Ann. “My sister wants to meet you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW.

“I ran to the hills till they found me  
And they put me back in my cell  
All by myself, alone with my thoughts again  
Guess my mind is a prison and I'm never gonna get out  
So they tranquilized me, analyzed me, threw me back in my cage  
Then they tied me to an IV, told me I was insane  
I'm a prisoner, a visitor inside of my brain.”

  * Alec Benjamin



On Tuesday, Anne took the afternoon off, and drove to the farm to surprise Ann. She pulled up to the house at four o’clock. James sat on the front porch, vaping. He quickly stuck it in his pocket.

She got out of the car and lifted a grocery bag. “Relax, James, I’m not going to bust you for pot.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, ma’am.”

“I think you can call me Anne, now.” She climbed the steps. “I took a lot of Adderall at the Academy. I don’t recommend it.”

He smiled sheepishly, and then sobered. “Uh, ma’--Anne. Ann’s had a rough day.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

He nodded. “She texted me to come do the morning chores. She wasn’t up to it. I’ve been hanging around.”

Anne pressed her lips together. “Where is she?”

“On the couch.”

Ann’s texts during the day had been terse, one-word answers, but Anne had been distracted by her own planning. She went into the house and set her bag on the island. There was a basket of vegetables on the island already, perhaps from James. 

Ann’s blonde hair was visible along the couch arm.

“We still haven’t discussed flowers, so I’m going to keep bringing wine,” she said cheerily.

“Anne?” The blonde head moved, but didn’t rise.

Anne went and sat on the coffee table, taking in Ann’s disheveled state. “Ann, did you sleep here?” She put a hand on Ann’s forehead. Cool. 

Ann struggled to sit up. “Couldn’t sleep. Came down to watch TV. Marie Kondo. The whole series. Just throwing away stuff over and over.”

Ann had slept in her clothes, and her face had red splotches. 

“Have you been crying?”

Ann sighed. She sat up fully in the couch, and eyed Anne warily. Then took a deep breath. “I heard voices last night. I couldn’t tell where they were coming from. Somewhere upstairs. It was better down here. I could still hear them, but it was… brighter.”

Anne considered. “What prompted them?” Ann had been fine the day before. Upbeat.

“Oh, God.” Ann rubbed her tired face. “I called my sister. And told her about you. Because you had told your sister, and isn’t that what we were doing? And she was angry. She said you were just after my money, taking advantage of the fact that I was an invalid. That I wasn’t gay, I was just traumatized. That you were manipulating me.”

“Ann.”

Ann reached for Anne’s hand. “I know you aren’t doing any of those things. I tried to explain it to her, but she wouldn’t hear it.” 

Anne kissed Ann’s hand. “I’m sorry, Ann. That she was like that.”

Ann swallowed. “She’s the only family I have left in the world. I wanted her to be happy for me.” Her eyes filled with tears. She tugged on Anne’s hand.

Anne came to sit by her on the couch, and took Ann into her arms. 

“I shouldn’t be telling you any of this,” Ann said, clinging to Anne’s arm. “You’ll leave. It isn’t alluring.”

“Hush. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

James knocked on the front door, and then came through it. He took in the sight with mild interest. “I’m going to head home. Do you want me to make you tea, first?”

Ann shook her head. 

“We’re fine,” Anne said. “I’m staying the night.”

James nodded, and gathered his bag, and went through the back door.

“You are?” Ann asked.

“Yes.” 

Ann straightened, using Anne’s shoulders to push herself up, and kissed Anne. The kiss was salty and sweet, Ann’s lips barely trembling against Anne’s. “Thank you.” She kissed Anne again.

“I wasn’t going to do this yet, because I’m embarrassed, but I have something to show you in my car.”

Ann arched an eyebrow, but let Anne pull her to her feet. Ann ran fingers through her tousled hair.

“Shoes?”

“By the front door.” 

Ann put on her shoes and they walked outside.

Anne popped the trunk of her Prius. A child’s car seat and a booster seat were in the trunk. Along with two gun cases, two bulletproof vests, Ann’s go-bag, a first aid kit, and a large, clunky-looking radio. 

“Oh, Anne.” Ann leaned into her.

Anne hugged Ann’s waist. “Let me make you something light to eat, and then we’ll take a walk in the gardens. I’m very intrigued about the voices.”

“Are you going to dissect me, Anne?” Ann gave a hint of a smile.

“I’m going to get to know you,” Anne said, getting up. “Fruit salad?”

“Sure.” Ann sighed and gazed up at her. “I think you’re trouble, Anne Lister.”

Anne closed her trunk. “Heard that before.”

***

Anne and Ann sat side by side on Ann’s bed. Anne was fiddling with the tv remote. 

“Anne,” Ann said. 

“Hm?” Anne navigated menus.

“Anne.” Ann put her hand on Anne’s thigh, and twisted to face her. “Put down the remote.”

Anne put down the remote. 

Ann smiled shyly. “I think...we should try again.”

Anne mulled it over. “You do.” 

Ann’s hand slid higher. “Yes.”

Anne cupped Ann’s cheek. “I have an idea.”

Ann laughed. “You have an idea. Always. What is it?”

“Well, have you ever masturbated?”

“What? Heavens no.” Ann said firmly. Then she began laughing again. “You should see your face. Of course I have. Not often but… more, lately.” 

“Good. Well. We need to get undressed.”

Ann’s hand moved to the hem of Anne’s pajama top. “I’m happy to do that.” She and Anne pushed up the shirt and tossed it to the floor. Then Ann tucked her fingers in Anne’s pants.

“Um,” Anne said.

“Come on. Help me.” Ann tugged.

“You do realize the effect you’re having on me, Ann,” Anne said.

“I hope so.” 

Ann leaned in and kissed her, deepening it quickly, until Anne’s tongue was coaxed into Ann’s mouth and captured. Anne exhaled. She allowed complete possession of her mouth, never losing connection to Ann’s hands touching her hips, already so close to where she was aching.

Ann broke the kiss and drew Anne’s pants down. She sat on her knees, and began sliding the hem of her nightgown up.

Anne swallowed. She wanted to rethink her plan, which was somewhat on the conservative side. But being willing to try again was not the same as being open to being taken, so she merely looked as Ann revealed her body. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” Anne said.

Ann, gloriously naked, sat back against the headboard. “I masturbate every night now,” she said. “Thinking of you.”

Anne lost her breath, so when she said, “Same,” only her mouth moved with no sound.

“What’s your plan, Special Agent?” Ann asked.

“You’re really going to have to stop calling me that in bed. I’m going to get a Pavlovian response to it and it will be completely inappropriate.”

Ann looked pleased.

Anne picked up the remote. She put on an episode of _Orange is the New Black_. She pressed a kiss to Ann’s shoulder. She whispered in Ann’s ear, “I don’t know about you, but I’m incredibly turned on right now. I’m going to get started.” She slipped her hand between her own legs, and twitched as she found the spot where her fingers were needed most.

“Oh,” Ann said. She licked her lips, watching Anne’s hand move. She glanced at the TV, where Anne’s attention seemed riveted. Ann cupped herself, at first demurely, but she couldn’t help sinking into damp heat. “God.”

“I heard guys do this all the time,” Anne said, her voice slightly hoarse. “Group activity.”

“I refuse to believe it.” Ann smiled.

Anne grinned at her, ignoring the television for a moment.

Ann scooted closer. She put her head on Anne’s shoulder. The television sounds could not cover up the the slippery stroking. Their moans and sighs aroused each other. 

Minutes passed, and their legs pressed together.

Ann gritted her teeth, her shoulders tense. “Anne,” she said.

“Hm?” Anne had slowed her pace, more interested in what Ann was doing.

“Would you… help me?”

Anne turned, settling her hand on Ann’s stomach. Ann didn’t flinch. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure.” Ann met her gaze, flushed.

Anne slipped between Ann’s thighs, first covering Ann’s hands, and then Ann covered hers instead. Anne stroked through immense wetness. Ann guided her to her clit, groaning as Anne pressed traced and teased. 

“Please, Anne.”

Anne added pressure, encouraged by Ann, rubbing the heel of her hand against Ann, whose breaths were harsh and fast. 

“Anne.” 

Ann held Anne’s hand close and shuddered. Her eyes were shut. Anne wanted to kiss her, to hold her, as the orgasm trembled through her, but she kept herself in Ann’s control. “God,” Ann said. She pulled Anne’s hand away.

Ann relaxed. Anne kissed her temple. “That was so hot.”

Ann groaned and opened her eyes. “And quick. Anne.” She turned her head, and found Anne’s lips. 

Anne kissed her, her freed hand coming up to Ann’s cheek. 

“I love you,” Ann breathed. She looked down. “Please don’t ruin the moment with practicalities. This is a life I have never lived.”

“Ann.” Anne kissed her again. Ann wrapped herself around Anne’s torso. She nuzzled Anne’s ear. 

Anne leaned against the headboard, holding Ann close.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Ann said. She nosed Anne’s cheek.

“Forgotten what?”

“This.” Ann pressed the tip of Anne’s breast. She was confident now, teasing the nipple and feeling Anne’s reaction. “You.”

Anne was torn between the easy coziness of snuggling and the still-urgent needs of her body. So she did nothing, as Ann kissed her neck and moved her hand from Anne’s breast to Anne’s center. She touched clumsily with her fingers, causing Anne to squirm.

“Ah,” Anne said.

“You’re so wet,” Ann said. She nibbled a path back to Anne’s lips and captured them in a hungry kiss.

“Mm, well. You do that to me,” Anne said between kisses. Mimicking earlier, she covered Ann’s exploring hand with her own. 

“Show me,” Ann said. 

“I’m very close,” Anne said. “It’s very difficult to control myself around you.”

“I know the feeling.”

Anne pushed Ann’s fingers. “Go inside.”

Ann slipped two fingers into Anne. Anne sighed and rolled her head back. “Yes. Like that.”

“You feel incredible,” Ann said. She slowly thrust.

“Harder,” Anne said.

Ann took her at her word, and used her strength to enter Anne, over and over, until Anne was shaking, feeling too vulnerable. Her desire reached its peak, and she held Ann to her, whispering “Harder,” as she fell apart. 

Ann stopped when Anne stopped moving, and gently removed her hand. “Anne. You look beautiful.”

Anne laughed, and unwilling to look at Ann, pressed her chin into Ann’s neck. Ann ran her hands up Anne’s sides. 

“We should take another shower,” Anne said.

“I know. And change the sheets? Your ideas need more preparation, Anne Lister.” Ann smiled and bumped noses with her.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Violence. Marian. A scorned woman. Ann's POV for like three seconds!

On Friday at six, Anne loaded Ann’s bags into the back seat of the Prius. 

Ann asked, “Who’s taking care of the FBI again?”

“An agent from Charlotte came down for the weekend. Everything’s fine.” Anne got in the car.

Ann got into the passenger seat, buckled her seatbelt, and eyed the radio.

“Please not the symphony,” Anne begged.

“I’m putting it on the Jimmy Buffet station.” 

“Fine.” 

Ann leaned over and kissed Anne’s cheek.

Anne huffed, but smiled. “Are you going to do that in front of my sister?”

“Absolutely.”

Anne sighed. She reached for Ann’s hand. “She’s going to love you.”

“I’m very charming,” Ann said.

“Yes, Ann.”

***

They’d been driving for an hour, almost to Raleigh, when Anne’s radio crackled.

“All units, Salinger St, Knightsdale. All units. Active shooter. Switch to channel 44.” 

The message repeated.

“Ann, I’m sorry. That includes me. Can you program the address into the GPS?”

“What address?” Ann sat up straight, eyes wide.

“Salinger St. In Knightsdale.” 

Ann reached for the touchscreen, fumbling.

Anne picked up the radio, and driving with her arms, switched the radio to channel 44. “This is FBI 29601. En route.” Anne checked the GPS. “20 minutes.”

“Acknowledged, 29601.”

“Anne. What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to show up. And you’re going to stay in the car.”

Ann said nothing, but looked straight ahead, as the car increased speed.

The radio chattered. “Use sirens.”

“Ann, in the glove compartment, there’s a light.”

“A what? A light? Anne, what’s going on?”

“A police light. Get it out.” Anne was trying not to hurry Ann along. They had twenty minutes. But already her adrenaline level was up. Her grip on the steering wheel was too hard. 

Ann pulled out the police light. 

“Turn it on with the switch on the side. Yes, there. Then put it on the dashboard.”

Ann activated it and put it on the dashboard. “That makes everything scarier.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We should be at the pool on our weekend away.”

They drove into a neighborhood in Knightsdale, which was already full of police cars on every sidewalk and blocking the road. Anne was relieved. That would put Ann well behind the perimeter.

“Ann.” Anne said. Ann was still staring straight ahead, at the sea of red lights.

Ann looked at her.

Anne leaned in and kissed her. “I might be awhile. Okay? Play the radio. Whatever you want. As long as you don’t get out of the car.”

“Anne.” Ann grabbed her arm. “Please come back to me.”

“I will.” 

Anne got out and opened the trunk and a gun case and strapped on her holster and service pistol. Then she shrugged into a bulletproof vest. She glanced at Ann, who was staring wide-eyed at her vest. Anne thumped it, showing it was solid.

She walked toward the perimeter, making sure to hang her badge around her neck. 

“Ma’am,” an officer said, lifting the tape for her.

“Thanks.”

“You’ll find the officer in charge to the right, next to the van,” the officer said.

She nodded, and went in that direction.

A police captain offered his hand. “Hello, I’m Captain Turley. You missed all the fun.”

“Anne Lister. What happened?”

“A guy in the neighborhood shooting a gun at all the houses. Broke some windows. Turned out to be a BB gun.”

“Arrested?”

“We shot him,” he said, sighing. “I think the Raleigh Special-Agent-in-Charge is walking the scene, if you want to check in.”

“I will.” Anne took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing nerves. It was mostly like this, a lot of excitement and not a lot of action, but now she had Ann in the car. Someone to protect at all costs. It was an unsettling feeling.

***

Anne walked back to her car an hour later. She went to the passenger door. Ann had been crying, and was clutching her phone. The radio was still on. She jumped a little when Anne appeared.

Anne opened the passenger door and Ann leapt out and into her arms, pressing her damp cheeks to Anne’s neck. “Anne, I was so worried. I couldn’t think. I was completely paralyzed.”

“I’m all right. It was over before we got here.” Anne held her tightly. 

“I never want that to happen again.” Ann gave Anne a little shake. “But it’s going to, isn’t it?”

“Definitely.” Anne stroked her hair. “I’m sorry.”

She held Ann until Ann’s grip loosened, and then pulled back far enough to kiss her mouth. “Let’s go on our vacation.”

Ann nodded. 

Anne helped her back into the car, and then stripped her vest and gun and stowed them in the trunk. She sat down in the driver’s seat.

Ann fingered the silver chain that dangled her badge around Anne’s neck. 

“I’m fine,” Anne said.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Ann said.

Anne grinned. “I guess you don’t want to stop in Raleigh for dinner?”

“Just drive.” Ann said.

Anne set the GPS back to their hotel in Charlotte and pulled out. 

Ann turned the radio to NPR. Roman Mars’ voice came on, talking about the Salton Sea.

When they hit the interstate, Anne put the car in cruise control and took Ann’s hand. Ann’s hand was clammy, but her fingers slid across Anne’s, sure and strong.

“Can we listen to something else?” Anne asked.

“Nope.”

“All right.”

Ann kissed Anne’s knuckles. 

“Now you know exactly how to get me to do what you want,” Anne said.

Ann smiled, and threaded her fingers through Anne’s. “Good.”

***

They ate a quiet meal at the hotel bar, and then went to their room, leaving the lights off. Ann only briefly admired the view, skyscapers all around, before changing her clothes. Anne did the same. Then they went into the double-vanity bathroom and brushed their teeth together. 

Anne thought about turning on the TV, but didn’t. She got into bed, intending to take Ann into her arms, but Ann had other ideas.

Ann pushed Anne’s shoulder. Anne rolled onto her side, and Ann snuggled along her back, wrapping an arm around Anne’s waist. Ann pressed her nose into Anne’s hair. “I was terrified.”

“I know.” Anne patted Ann’s hand.

“You’ve made so much effort to accept my life. I know I have to do the same.” Ann hugged Anne tighter.

“Not tonight, though.”

“No?” Ann kissed Anne’s shoulder.

“These things take time.” Anne closed her eyes, her fingers interlaced with Ann’s. She listened to Ann’s anxious breathing. 

***

Anne woke up at a slept-in six o’clock. She went to the gym after leaving sleeping Ann a note. After that, she got coffee from Starbucks and brought it in and watched Ann sleep for a while while reading the newspapers on her tablet.

Ann stirred, and reached for Anne’s spot in the bed. “Anne?”

“Over here,” Anne said.

Ann rolled onto her back and inhaled deeply. “Do I smell coffee?”

“Yes. It might be a little lukewarm now.” Anne put her tablet aside and got the coffee.

She sat on the edge of the bed and handed a cup to Ann, who was managing to sit up.

“Thank you.” Ann, still half-lidded with drowsiness, took a sip. “What is this magic? It’s not Dunkin’.”

“Starbucks,” Anne said.

“Ah. The magic of the big city.” Ann took a few long sips. “Definitely easier to drink at this temperature.”

Anne drank her own coffee. 

“What’s the plan for the day?” Ann asked. 

“Mm. Well. Breakfast. Then I thought we could walk around uptown, and then spend the rest of the day by the pool. We’re meeting Marian at the restaurant upstairs at six.”

“Upstairs?” Ann looked at the window and its view.

“Yes.”

Ann smiled. “I have an alternate suggestion.”

“I’m all ears.” Anne put her coffee on the nightstand.

Ann got to her knees and straddled Anne’s lap, and kissed her.

“This is off to a good start,” Anne said. 

She offered herself to Ann’s mouth and Ann’s touches, sliding up and down her arms, her shoulders, her breasts. She returned the caresses, her heart already pounding, excited. Ann’s coffee kisses were deep and searching. Anne steadied Ann on her lap. Ann moaned against her lips. 

Anne slipped a hand under Ann’s shirt. She found Ann’s breast, and was rewarded by Ann arching into her, pressing herself down on Anne’s lap, unrelenting with her kisses.

“Ann.” Anne twisted, laying Ann down on the sheets. 

Ann broke the kiss, but held Anne’s shoulders, looking up at her with nervous anticipation.

Anne’s stomach growled.

Ann laughed.

“I’m ignoring that,” Anne said. She ran her thumb across Ann’s nipple.

Ann squirmed, smiling. “No, we should eat. And shower. Start the day.”

“Okay.” Anne slid down, pushing Ann’s shirt up, and kissing her stomach. “If you say so.”

“I do. Feed me.” Ann stroked Anne’s hair.

Anne sat up. She took a sip of her coffee, which was now on the cold side of lukewarm. 

Ann slipped away, kneeling again. “Would you like to shower with me?”

“Yes.” Anne said.

“For the environment.”

“Of course.”

Ann bounded off the bed and peeled off her shirt. Then, her back to Anne, she strode into the bathroom.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Anne said, following.

***

Anne and Ann sat in lounge chairs next to the pool. The late-May day was unusually warm. Ann read _Cosmopolitan_ , while Anne read _Mud and Stars: Travels in Russia with Pushkin and Other Geniuses of the Golden Age_. Occasionally they commented on what they were reading to the other, causing rolling eyes and rueful smiles.

Around two, a shadow appeared over Anne. “Anne? And Ann? Look, honey, it’s the Annes.”

Anne, who had been half-dozing, opened her eyes. “Sylvia!” Sylvia and her husband, Charlie, from their venture to Chili’s, were standing side-by-side next to her. “What brings you here?”

“Trade conference. It’s at the Hilton, actually. But this is our favorite place.”

“It’s fabulous,” Anne said.

“Champagne?” Charlie asked.

Anne mulled.

“Sure,” Ann said, sitting up and turning toward them. They were all four in bathing suits. 

Sylvia settled onto the lounger next to Ann with a contented sigh.

Charlie went to the bar.

Ann flipped through her magazine. “Want to do the quiz with me, Sylvia? Anne won’t.”

Anne buried herself in her book.

“Okay,” Ann said. “Here we go. ‘Who Said It: A Kardashian-Jenner or Ernest Hemingway?’”

***

Ann and Marian were fast friends by the time the appetizers arrived. Anne withstood enormous teasing from both of them. 

“Georgetown, really?” Ann said. “How did you end up in Charlotte?”

“Banking. A lot of money in banking law. You’d think someone as ambitious to restore their family’s honor would recognize that,” Marian said, peeking at Anne over her martini glass.

“New money is not the same as history and lineage, Marian,” Anne said.

Marian scoffed.

“How does the FBI fit into that?” Ann asked. She had her left hand on Anne’s thigh, and used her right to eat a date. She was up against the window, which showed a twinkling, sunny skyline.

Anne groused.

Marian took a sip of her drink. “Oh, she wanted to do something noble. Our parents--”

“Our parents were assholes,” Anne said. “Aunt Ann said I had a certain aptitude, and encouraged me.”

“It was either that or the Air Force,” Marian said. “And thank God they still weren’t fans of gays at that time.”

Ann’s lips were pressed together, and Anne suspected she was thinking about last night, and the danger. She covered Ann’s hand with hers, and squeezed gently.

“Freddy!”

Marian groaned and put her head in her hand.

Ann tensed.

Mariana came to the table, looking severe and elegant and unhappy.

“Mary,” Anne said. “What are you doing here? How did you know we were here? What is going on?”

“I came down anyway, despite your rejection.” Mariana spared a glance for Ann. “And your sister posted on Instagram that she was here with two lovely women.”

“Oops,” Marian said.

Anne slid out of the booth, towering over Mariana. “Let’s talk outside.”

“Do you not want your new friend to hear what we have to say to one another?”

“Mary. You’re drunk.” Anne gripped her elbow and dragged her to the outside patio.

Marian looked at Ann. “So that’s…”

“I know. Anne told me,” Ann said.

“She did? How mature of her.”

“I admit, I didn’t take it well,” Ann said, her cheeks pink.

Marian said, “Jealous? Don’t be. Mariana’s a bore. And Anne seems entirely smitten with you. I haven’t seen her look that happy in years.”

Ann grinned and looked down at the table.

“I still haven’t heard how you two met,” Marian said.

“Oh, that’s not really a good story to tell. We met at work.”

Marian nodded. “Okay. Would you like to see a picture of my cat?”

“Yes!” Ann came around the table to sit next to Marian. “I have three dogs.”

“Outstanding.”

They were still swapping phone pet pictures when Anne came back. 

“I’m so sorry,” Anne said. “So very, very sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Ann got up and came to Anne’s side of the table again. 

“Mariana is always a delight,” Marian said.

“I think I need a bourbon. Where’s the waiter?” Anne craned her neck, scanning the restaurant.

Marian ate a date. “What are you guys doing tomorrow?”

“Whitewater Center,” Anne said.

Ann curled her lip over her teeth. “You know I’m not rafting, right?”

“For lunch.” Anne patted Ann’s arm. “And zip-lining.”

“I--” Ann’s phone rang. Ann frowned. “I’m sorry, I think I need to take this.” She lifted the phone to her ear. “Catherine?”

“Ann. It’s been ages. I’m sorry to call you out of the blue. Um, Elizabeth asked me to. She said… you were not okay.”

“Catherine. Hold on.” Ann texted a selfie of herself and Anne in the pool, flanked by Sylvia and Charlie. 

“Ann!” Catherine said. “You look so happy.”

“I am. Elizabeth can fuck off.”

Marian raised her eyebrows at Anne.

Anne grinned.

“Her fault for not understanding how gay people work in _2020_ ,” Catherine said.

“I agree. Catherine, this is a bad time. Can I call you when I get back home? I want to hear how you are.”

“I’m fabulous. Call me then!” Catherine hung up.

Ann looked sheepishly at Anne and Marian. “My sister is concerned.”

“Concern rarely stops people’s sisters from doing whatever they want,” Marian said, wrinkling her nose at Anne.

The waiter came. “Are you guys ready for--”

“--Double Crown with ice, please,” Anne said.

“--”Dinner?” he finished, nodding to Anne.

“Mac and cheese,” Marian said, cheerfully.

“Ribeye,” Anne said. She and Marian eyed each other, disapproving of each other’s food.

“Lamb,” Ann said.

Marian and Anne both frowned at Ann.

She shrugged. “It’s delicious.”

“A bottle of the Caymus, please,” Marian said.

“Marian. The prices here are ridiculous,” Anne said.

“So what? I’m paying. It’s you two lovebirds or the cat, and she doesn’t like overpriced wine.”

The waiter fled.

Ann sat close enough to Anne that their hips and sides touched. “My life has been much more exciting since I met Anne,” Ann said.

Marian snorted. “Oh yeah. Mine too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The podcast about the Salton Sea is really interesting, you guys. https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/sea-worth-salt/


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. TW for mental health issues.

The week passed quickly. Anne was buried in paperwork. Ann was thinking of buying the properties on either side of her farm, and sought Anne’s advice. They had dinner once, without Anne staying over, and texted frequently.

On Friday, Anne left Greenville early and arrived at Ann’s around three. 

Ann came to the porch and accepted a kiss and a hug. “There’s a surprise.” She led Anne into the living room. There was a bassinet on the coffee table. 

“A baby?” Anne asked, as dread filled her torso.

“Yes. Please sit down. Unless you need to run to the restroom or something.”

“Nope.” Anne sat down on the couch.

Ann sat down next to her and began unbuttoning Anne’s blouse. “This is Sarah, she’s four months old, and she really likes skin-to-skin contact.”

“Ann.” 

Ann separated her shirt, and then reached into the bassinet for an impossibly small baby in a pink onesie. She handed Sarah to Anne. “Put her against your chest.”

“Like this?” Anne held the baby against her. 

“Exactly.” Ann beamed. “Can I get you a drink?”

“You’d better. What should I be doing?”

“Just that. That right there.”

Anne sighed. The baby was warm and soft. 

Ann brought her a beer. “The first of the summer shandies.” 

“Thank you, Ann.”

Ann sat next to Anne, pulled her loose shirt off her shoulder, and kissed her there. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Anne glanced at the baby’s head. “Perhaps a bit boring.”

Ann chuckled. She squished against Anne’s side and picked up her phone off the coffee table. “My sister texted this morning. Let me show you.”

Anne was holding Sarah with both hands. Ann held the phone up.

“Ann, I spoke to Catherine. She’s quite approving of your situation in North Carolina, so I apologize for being so sharp with you. The Captain and I would love it if you and your friend spent the 4th of July with us.”

“The Captain?” Anne asked.

“Her husband. He’s a Captain in the Army there. I don’t know why she calls him that.”

“Kinky,” Anne said. She maneuvered the baby carefully into her left arm and reached for the beer. It was light and lovely.

Ann leaned against Anne’s shoulder and played on her phone.

Anne did nothing. It took several minutes to relax into the experience. But with the beer, it became pleasant.

James came through the back door, letting the dogs in. He looked at Anne with her bra on. “You got baby duty.” He chuckled.

“I take it the same experience has been inflicted upon you.”

“Oh yeah.”

They grinned.

Ann pushed herself out of her seat. “Is everything set, James?” 

“Yep. Just promise me you’ll eat that barbecue.”

“Of course. Tell John thank you.”

He grinned, and went back out the back door.

The dogs circled around Anne and her charge. She patted Buddy.

“His cousin smoked a bunch of barbecue for the church today. Are you a vinegar or tomato person?”

“However you prefer it,” Anne said. 

“I don’t have baked beans. I thought I’d make some scalloped potatoes.”

“Fine.” Anne smiled. 

“You okay with Sarah?”

“As long as you bring me another beer.”

Ann kissed Anne gently, and then went into the kitchen.

Anne glanced down at Sarah. She whispered, “I could get used to this.”

After Mariana had married Charles, Anne had never wanted for a wife again. She married the job instead. She buried herself in work. Now, Ann was awakening things in her that she’d thought dead, not dormant. 

“Are you free for the 4th of July?” Ann called from the kitchen.

“It’s a work weekend. But maybe I could switch shifts. Where is your family?”

“Loudoun County,” Ann said.

“I can definitely get something in DC. Were we that near each other? All those years?”

Ann brought Anne a fresh beer. “Remember, Pony, I’m much younger than you.”

“Ah, yes. Pony?”

“I’m trying it out. What do you think?”

“I think I’d prefer Stallion, darling.”

Ann petted Anne’s head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

Anne was roused to awareness by the baby crying in Ann’s bedroom. Ann was right next to her. Anne could feel her heat.

“Ann? Do you want me to take care of the baby?” Anne asked, shaking off grogginess.

Sarah cried. 

Ann didn’t respond.

Yawning, Anne pushed herself up. She glanced at Ann in the dusky light. “Ann? Are you all right?”

Charlie, who’d been sleeping next to their feet, was pacing in front of the bassinet. 

Ann was crying underneath the fingers pressed to her eyes. “It’s the voices.”

“What are they saying?” Anne didn’t know whether to be concerned most for Ann or Sarah, but she had no idea what to do about either of them. She focused on the one who could communicate with her.

“It’s my mother. I’m worthless. I’m wretched. I’ll kill the baby. I’m a sinner against God. I’m a shame to my family. I’m horrible. It repeats.”

“Ann.” Anne touched Ann’s wrist. “Come on, look at me.”

Ann lowered her hands. She turned to Anne. “It’s not my mother. It’s the, the spirit, the demon. It took my mom’s voice. She’s not like that.” 

“Ann. What do I do with Sarah? The baby?”

Ann stared at the ceiling. “Check if she needs a diaper change. See if she’s hungry. Hold her.”

“Wouldn’t you be better—“

“No. I can’t. The first rule of caring for an infant—If you can’t cope, stay away. Let it cry as long as it’s safe, and get yourself to safety, too.” Like she was quoting from a care manual.

“Okay.” Anne got out of bed and picked up Sarah. Sarah continued to wail. “I’ll just...go through those steps.”

Sarah did need a change, but a fresh diaper didn’t stop the crying, so Anne carefully carried her downstairs to warm a bottle of formula that was already prepared in the fridge.

Sarah refused it.

Anne took Sarah to the couch. Buddy and Lorenzo hopped on the couch and sniffed at Sarah. Sarah quieted.

“Do you need some doggie friendship?” Anne asked. She held Sarah to where Buddy could lick Sarah’s face, and flop down on the couch next to her. Sarah murmured, but had stopped crying.

Anne tried the bottle again, and this time Sarah accepted it. Anne glanced at the ceiling, thinking of Ann above them, suffering. 

Sarah fell asleep in her arms. She gingerly got up, and headed back upstairs. Buddy and Lorenzo followed. She let them into the bedroom.

Ann still stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed, her hands clenched around her ears.

Anne set the baby in the bassinet face-up, making sure the boosters were in place. She sat next to Ann on the bed, and put her hand Ann’s chest. “Sarah is okay. How are you?”

“They won’t stop,” Ann said. 

“I’m sorry,” Anne said.

“They’re worse since… I met you.” 

Anne stayed silent, gazing at Ann’s anxious face.

Ann pushed herself up on her elbows. “The pills keep me calm, but there’s nothing that makes the voices go away. And they’re so… gross. Demeaning. Sullied.”

Anne helped Ann sit up. 

“I hate to do it, but I’m going to take a tranquilizer, and go to sleep,” Ann said. “Can you..?”

“Yes. I’ll keep an eye on Sarah.”

Ann went to the bathroom, closed the door for a bit. Then came back out and crawled into bed next to Anne.

Anne wrapped Ann up in her arms. “Rest,” she said.

“You should give up on me,” Ann said. “I’m not going to get better. You could find someone else. Someone who could give you what you want.”

Anne kissed Ann’s hair. “We haven’t talked about what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“To spend more time with you.” Anne said.

Ann curled into Anne’s body. Anne held her. “And to travel. Russia. Africa. One day I’ll go back to Paris.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be healthy enough to travel,” Ann said. “I’m an incredible burden.”

“Let’s just see,” Anne said.

Ann’s breathing evened, and soon she and Sarah were fast asleep, leaving Anne and the three dogs warily guarding them through the night.

***

Anne woke before Ann. She took Sarah and the bassinet downstairs and fixed breakfast for herself. She read the paper on her tablet. Then she settled in for the inane work updates on her Blackberry.

Ann came downstairs. She had showered and got dressed, but looked wan and pale. 

“Good morning,” Anne said. 

Ann sat down next to her. She glanced at Sarah.

“Everything’s fine.”

“I’m sorry about last night,” Ann said.

Anne put down her device and faced Ann. She put her hands on Ann’s shoulders. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

Ann looked at the ceiling. 

“Do you remember what we said last night?” 

“Um.” Ann squinted, and then looked at Anne. “Not a word.”

“You asked me what I wanted, and I said it was to spend more time with you.”

Ann’s cheek twitched. Not quite a smile. “Wait. And you said something about Russia.”

“Yes. I also want to see Russia.”

Ann leaned forward, her gaze intent on Anne’s lips. She kissed Anne, and then sighed. “You could find somebody better.”

“Ann. I talk to people for a living. Some interesting. Some exceptional. But I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Look. I got distracted by the surprise baby, but my laptop is in the trunk. I intended to work here this weekend, so I wouldn’t have to go back to Greenville.”

Ann’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“So, may I kiss you properly?”

Ann blushed. “You can try.”

Anne cupped Ann’s cheeks in her hands and pressed soft, light kisses to her mouth. Ann returned them in kind, holding onto her wrists. She tugged gently at Anne’s lower lip. Anne opened her mouth and it was Ann who was kissing her properly.

Ann smiled against Anne’s lips. “Now I can say good morning.”

Anne kissed her again. “Want to make coffee?”

“God, yes.” 

“I’ll go get my stuff.”

Ann got up, and lingered, reaching out to stroke Anne’s cheek. “I want you to stay.”

Anne grinned. “I hoped you would.”

***

Anne set herself up on the dining room table. She’d brought her laptop and a second monitor. She didn’t care how crazy it looked.

Ann spent time with Sarah on the floor. Sarah was largely immobile, but eager to laugh. When Sarah tuckered out, Ann made sandwiches for lunch. Then she read the paper.

Then she came and sat down next to Anne. “So what are you doing?”

“Reading about banking regulations,” Anne said ruefully, turning to Ann.

“What would you rather be doing?”

Anne raised her eyebrows as Ann smiled. 

“I feel like we’re wasting a perfectly good afternoon,” Ann said. “Hanging out in the wrong room of the house.”

“What are you proposing, Miss Walker?”

“Well, I have a baby monitor and a bed upstairs. Shall we?”

Anne glanced at her computer and then locked the screen. Grinning, she got up. “I’ll carry Sarah and her stuff. You set up where we’re going to stash her.”

If Anne had only one regret, it was that her hands were too full to take off her clothes on the way up the stairs. 

They tucked Sarah into the ‘Kid’s room,’ as Ann called it, and then went to Ann’s bedroom.

“Are you sure?” Anne asked, hoping her eyes did not express the eagerness of her chest pounding.

“More than sure.” Ann kissed her gently, and then tugged at Anne’s shirt. “Hurry.”

“I don’t think we need to hurry…” Anne, though, pulled off her shirt as Ann reached for her belt, which was supremely arousing.

“I may have been waiting for the right time to approach you,” Ann said.

“Now. The moment is always now.” Anne took off her bra. She gazed at Ann. 

Ann took off her own clothes, without pageantry or preamble. “Oh, I ordered something from Amazon.” She opened her nightstand drawer. “Water-based lube?”

“Jesus, Ann. You’ve been planning.”

“Yes. And thinking. And plotting.” 

Ann wrapped her arms around Anne’s neck and pulled Anne down to kiss her. This time she was unrelenting, urging Anne’s mouth open, searching to taste her, pressing her body against Anne’s. 

Anne kissed her back just as fervently, pressing Ann’s back. “Ann,” she mumbled between lips clashing and pulling and nipping.

Ann breathed, and then stepped back, gazing into Anne’s face. “You are stunning.” She took Anne’s hands. “I want to know every inch of you. Every scar.” She paused. “Have you ever been shot?”

Anne had trouble clearing her head to process the question. “Uh, no.”

“Ever shot anyone?”

“Let’s tell stories another time, Ann.” Anne tugged their linked hands toward the bed, sitting down. 

Ann sat down with her, seeking her kisses. Gradually Anne fell back, Ann propped against her chest to kiss her mouth. 

Anne stroked what she could touch; Ann’s breasts, Ann’s back, Ann’s arms. She wanted to be swallowed up by kisses. She felt torn between excited desire and total calm. 

Ann peppered kisses down her throat and then across her breasts. She reached for Anne’s thigh. “Anne.”

“I’m right here.”

Ann rolled onto her back. She smiled, neck craning, at Anne. “I don’t want you to have any ideas.”

“My mind is a complete blank, I assure you.” 

“I want you to take me, Anne,” Ann said.

Anne propped herself up on her arm and reached for Ann’s hand. “What?”

Ann squeezed her fingers. “Anne. I want a good, old-fashioned fucking.”

The word burned though Anne. “Are you sure?”

“I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand how much I need you.”

Anne crouched over Ann’s body to switch positions on the bed, and then stretched against her, pressing into her side. She trailed her fingers down Ann’s chest. She brushed a nipple. 

Ann shivered. 

Anne kissed Ann’s shoulder. “Ann, look at me.”

Ann met her eyes. Anne leaned in and kissed her. Her touch traveled down Ann’s stomach to between her parted legs. Ann was soaking wet, and opened wider at her touch.

Ann shifted so that she could reach across her body to Anne’s face as Anne deepened their kiss. 

Anne pressed a finger against Ann. Ann jerked. Anne touched her more firmly, and Ann groaned, breaking the kiss. She closed her eyes and began to move her hips against Anne’s fingers. 

“You are gorgeous,” Anne murmured. “So ready for me.”

Ann bit her lip. She rocked against Anne’s hand. Her eyes fluttered open. “Anne. Take me.”

Anne hesitated at Ann’s opening, and then slipped one finger into her. Ann winced. 

“Ann.” 

“It’s been a very long time. More. Don’t stop.”

Anne kept her finger moving. Ann’s tightness at first seemed to fight her, but as they moved together, Ann relaxed. Anne retreated to add a second finger, moving as slow as she could.

Ann groaned. “That feels amazing. I haven’t—Anne, fuck me.”

Anne knelt to get the right angle. She pushed into Ann steadily. 

Ann reached for her, and brought Anne down on top of her, like a shield. She bucked against Anne’s hand. Her grip on Anne’s back was tight.

“I never want to come,” Ann said. “I never want to let go of this, but I’m going to—Kiss me, Anne.”

Anne’s lips descended onto Ann’s. Ann sloppily kissed her, writhing, pushing hard against Anne’s fingers. She let out a cry as she came, trembling under Anne. Tears followed, and a retreat of her hips and Anne’s fingers simultaneously. 

Anne used her damp hand to prop herself over Ann. “Ann.”

Ann smiled and let out a choked laugh. “Thank you.”

“You’re incredible.” Anne rubbed noses with her. 

Ann gave Anne a push and Anne rolled onto her side. Ann twisted to face her. “I may be inexperienced but I have something in mind…”

Anne raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“It’s finally my turn. I want to taste you.” Ann began moving down the bed.

Anne rolled onto her back. “Whatever you want…”

***


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pet blessing!!!!

“I have been all things unholy.” - St. Francis of Assisi, apocryphal

Marian texted while Anne was eating lunch at Subway. “I hope you know Ann and I talk every day. Not always about you, before your ego inflates.”

“She shows me. You are a wicked woman, Marian.”

“I’m glad to have a friend I don’t have to entertain at Bank of America happy hour,” Marian wrote.

Anne sent back a series of alcohol-related emojis.

“So,” Marian wrote. “How’s it going?”

“I presume you mean with Ann.”

“Yes.” Marian sent a peach. 

Anne rolled her eyes. “Everything’s fine. I’m going to meet her family over 4th of July.”

“Holy shit, sis. That’s a big step. Have you told her you love her?”

“Why would I do that?” Anne jabbed the phone with her thumbs.

“Because you’re completely smitten with her. I was there, remember? Mariana waltzing in and all of your hackles raised? Do people still say ‘fierce’ anymore? I don’t think that’s a thing…”

Anne rolled her eyes. It took dedication to ramble in text. “I haven’t told her yet.”

“Has she told you?”

Anne glared at the phone. “You know the answer.”

Marian sent a taco emoji.

Anne burned beet red. “Please stop torturing me.”

“I just want you to know I approve of your courtship with Miss Walker.”

Anne sent an ‘I love you’ emoji, followed by a middle finger.

“You’re telling the wrong person.”

“Argh!” Anne turned off her phone.

***

Anne drove out to the church in Wilson, pet-less. She was meeting Ann and James there. They were bringing five dogs, between them.

When she arrived, Gillian was already there with her cat carrier. Anne hugged her.

“Will they let you in with no animals?” Gillian teased.

“They’re coming.” Anne resisted showing Gillian all the dog pictures on her phone.

James’ Highlander pulled into the parking lot. He and Ann got out, and then went to the back and released the five dogs. 

Three ran over to greet Anne. Anne petted them. “See? I have dogs.”

Gillian raised her eyebrows.

Ann kissed Anne. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Anne smiled.

Gillian shook her head. “Are you always like that?”

“They sure are,” James said. He stuck out his hand. “I’m James.”

“Gillian.” She shook. “Those other two dogs yours?”

“Yes, ma’am. Salt and Pepper.”

“Cute.” Gillian bent to pet Salt. 

“That your cat?” James asked.

“Cinderella,” she said, lifting the carrier so James could see the coal-black cat inside.

“Awesome name,” he said.

Ann and Anne glanced at each other.

The rector, a woman in her 50s, came onto the stairs of the church. “Hello, everyone, if we could gather in the garden…”

James and Ann attached leashes to their dogs. Ann turned Buddy over to Anne. The four of them walked around the side of the church to an intimate, walled garden. There were about twenty other animals. Anne saw one cockatiel and two turtles along with the dogs and cats. No fish. 

The rector stood in front. “I’m Jean Thomas, the rector here at St. Titus. Welcome to the Blessing of the Animals. Let’s bow our heads.”

Heads were bowed. Anne kept her eyes open, as she always did in public. The garden smelled lush and vegetal, all the spring flowers gone and the summer leaves a lively pale green. Anne inhaled deeply and also tasted dog fur and candlewax.

Jean prayed, “Most high, omnipotent good Lord, grant your people grace to renounce gladly the vanities of this world; that, following the way of blessed Francis…”

Buddy circled nervously around Anne’s legs.

Gillian took Cinderella from her crate and held her.

The crowd began to sing, “All Things Bright and Beautiful.”

Anne was glad she knew the words. She didn’t want to be the only one pulling out her phone and googling hymns. She’d celebrated St. Francis many times, but had never attended a pet blessing. She’d never had a pet.

Jean began blessing individual animals. She had a bowl of water in which a stalk of rosemary sat, and she brushed the stalk over the head of each animal. Anne was unaccountably nervous, for herself and Buddy. This was the second time she and Ann had been in church together and it felt… Anne searched her vocabulary for the anxious twist of her stomach, and came up with _meaningful_. She dared not glance at Ann.

“This is Lorenzo,” Ann said.

Jean said, “Lorenzo, may you be blessed in the Name of God who created you, and may you and Ann enjoy life together with our God."

 _Oh, shit_. Anne clenched her jaw. _I love Ann._

“Ma’am?” Jean looked expectantly at her, rosemary water dripping on the ground. 

“Oh, I’m Anne, this is Buddy.”

Jean knelt in front of Buddy.

“Buddy…”

Anne spared a glance at Ann.

Ann was smiling at her--beaming, really--and seemed to glow in the morning sunlight.

Anne endeavoured to smile back, but her lip was quivering. She bit it.

Ann laughed. 

Anne knelt next to Buddy, who immediately licked her face. That way she could pretend her tears were dog slobber, and that this was just an ordinary church garden filled with dogs and people, and not a perfect place in a perfect moment full of love.

***

Anne sat on the back porch stairs, looking at the wide expanse of grass behind Ann’s house. The dogs played, no worse the wear for having been whacked on the face with rosemary. They’d piled all three into the Prius. James had decided to have lunch in Wilson with Gillian. 

The sun was hot. Sweat gathered under Anne’s shirt. She figured she should go inside where there was air conditioning. But she didn’t want to move. She wanted the sun to burn out all the vulnerability she was feeling. Nervousness was unfamiliar and unwelcome, and came with regret she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling. Or ever needed to feel at all.

Ann came out, carrying a glass of pink liquid and a sunhat. She put the hat on Anne’s head. She sat down on the steps next to Anne, their knees touching. She handed over the glass.

“I made you a smoothie,” Ann said.

“You made me a smoothie?” No one had ever made her a smoothie before. She swallowed, choked up again. Then managed to take a tiny sip. Strawberries, banana, the mealiness of protein powder and… “Cucumber?”

“Yup. A whole frozen one, right in there. My little secret recipe.”

“Your secret recipe.” Anne cleared her throat. She was a mess.

Ann sat demurely. The dogs rushed over, sniffed her, and then ran off again. She picked up the pet blessing bulletin and read the prayer on the back, musing.

“God, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love,” Ann read.

Anne drank a third of the smoothie, shivered from the cold, and then shifted to face Ann. “Is that a question?”

Ann cupped Anne’s cheek, peering at her face through the hat’s shadows. “You are not a quiet person, Anne.”

Anne shrugged and looked out at the lawn again. “Remember when you were telling me about… college. And how you thought, ‘That’s it. That’s my life now.’”

“I do,” Ann said. She tapped her knee against Anne’s.

“I thought--” Anne’s voice was thick. She took another sip of smoothie, trying to clear out the fear that had gathered in her throat. “I thought that I was fine. That having Mariana a tiny bit was fine--Better, even, than having to put up with someone day after day after day. That I was fine working here and not Charlotte, or Washington. That I was fine delaying traveling because there were needs more pressing. I thought my mom, and then my aunt, dying was fine.”

Ann put her hand on Anne’s shoulder.

“I’m not fine,” Anne said. Her shoulders shook.

Ann brought Anne against her. “You’re okay, though. Anne. It’s okay.”

“I could have had a different life.” Anne buried her face in Ann’s chest, the hat falling askew.

“I know. I know how you feel.”

Anne sniffled. The sun beat down on her back, stripping her of artifice and protection, leaving her raw and renewed. Eventually, she relaxed into Ann’s slow, gentle touches, which went from undoing her to stitching her back together. She sat up, patient as Ann cupped her face in both hands.

“We’re going to meet your family,” Anne said. “It’s going to be awful, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea,” Ann said, and kissed her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Family issues, domestic violence

Ann insisted on paying for everything during their trip to Washington, D.C. Anne suspected it was because Ann wanted to fly first class, instead of Anne driving, which was ridiculous. But she went along with it, and had her free drink on the plane, as was custom. Ann’s warnings about her family were not unheeded.

When Charles Lawton learned that she wanted the holiday weekend with her new friend, he gave her the entire week off. 

The Fourth of July was a Friday, and they decided to stay in the city until Elizabeth and her husband could join them, rather than traveling an hour out to Loudon and back. They were bringing their two oldest children, Charles, 10, and Evan, 8, and had a sitter for the two youngest.

They met at an Arlington pub just off the Key Bridge. Ann had suggested a McDonalds, but apparently her family was horrified. The children were polite in the pub, and George, Captain in the Army, and Anne Lister had an instant friendship. They swapped stories of carousing earlier days while their lovers patiently, and sometimes impatiently, listened, and they sipped beer and ate chicken as the sun set.

At dusk, Anne asked the boys if they were ready to get out of there and see the river, and they were enthusiastic. 

The six walked down to the boathouse under the Key Bridge. 

“We’re going on a boat?” Captain Sutherland, George, asked.

“I brought dramamine,” Anne said

He stuck his hand out. Anne provided the white pill, which he split in half and handed to his wife. 

“The kids?” Anne asked.

“We’ll see,” George said, with a glint in his eye that was a bit unfatherly. 

“Where are we going?” Charles asked.

Anne leaned forward. “We’re going to see the fireworks. It’s the 4th of July after all.”

“And we’re taking a boat?”

“There are only kayaks here,” George said, squinting.

Anne checked her phone. “He’s coming now.”

Presently, a 30 foot yacht pulled up to the kiddie dock, with a young, grinning man at the pilot’s seat. He got out and helped Anne wrangle the ropes so that the yacht was tight against the dock.

“I need to see your IDs,” he said to the adults. 

Anne produced her badge immediately, and Ann followed suit with her state ID. George was more officious, pulling his out with a sigh.

“Sorry,” the pilot said, after introducing himself as Aaron, “These are restricted waters.”

Charles glanced from Anne to Aaron. “Like by the FBI?”

Aaron grinned. “The Secret Service. Heard of them?”

“Yes!” Charles said.

“Ready to get aboard?” Aaron asked. He popped the children over the side first, letting them scamper to the seating area in the front of the boat.

“Ms. Lister, I’m impressed,” George said. “I’ve always wanted to do this but the thought of the traffic on the GW was too much to contemplate.”

“I understand. I confess, I’ve never done it either. I’ve never been in DC as a tourist. Only for training and one very tedious conference.”

George and Anne chuckled together.

Ann frowned slightly, and let Aaron help her into the boat.

Elizabeth and Anne boarded, and then George hopped onto the boat with less grace than he probably intended.

George asked, “You’re really off duty the whole week?” 

Anne nodded. “It’s a very long story, but I did a favor for Charles Lawton.”

“He’s a right bastard,” George said. “Hates the army.”

Anne grinned. “I can’t disagree.”

Aaron got back in the cockpit. “Listen up. Nothing leaning over the edge. Not even arms. There’s a bathroom downstairs. Also some snacks—nothing fancy. Please spend most of your time sitting up front here. It’ll take us about a half hour to get down the Potomac. Speed restrictions are in place and the Coast Guard is everywhere.”

“So I’m taking it there’s no drinking on the boat,” George said with a chuckle.

“Save that for home,” Aaron said. “I don’t make the rules.”

Anne settled into the seat next to the cockpit, and Ann sat demurely beside her.

The kids stayed at the prow, only leaning over once until George snapped at them.

The ship went downstream in the dark, keeping the starboard side along the Virginia coast.

They eventually reached a cavalcade of hundreds of boats, mostly their size or smaller, some gigantic yachts, some canoes and rowboats. There were lights on the boats, and lights from the monuments to their left. Stars shone overhead.

Elizabeth and George looked content and relaxed.

“How did you know about this?” Ann asked.

“From seeing this out my car window and burning with envy,” Anne said.

The yacht anchored and was only rocked by the gentlest of waves.

Anne leaned close to Ann’s ear. “We’re in the Dyke Marsh.”

“No. Stop.” Ann swatted her.

“Google it.”

Ann blushed and glanced at Elizabeth and George, who were looking off to the north. 

Anne checked her watch. “Fireworks start in an hour. Who’s for a game of I Spy?”

***

In the end, the kids dictated how their hour went. Eating snacks, playing UNO on the floor of the ship, discussing their lives animatedly to two brand new people. Seeking attention and receiving it. 

Anne and Elizabeth took tons of blurry pictures and better videos on their phone.

Then the music started in the distance, and the first firework went off.

They dashed back to their seats with awe. Anne rested her arm along the edge of the boat as Ann leaned into her.

The fireworks seemed right on top of them.

The army bands played. George seemed to hum along with them, enraptured. 

Anne let her inner child out, dazzled by the fireworks, patriotically inspired by the band’s rendition of the 1812 overture. Something only possible at this distance, in the dark, far away from the city and the monuments themselves. She was glad not to be at work, to not have to think about her work, and its hardships, its disappointments.

Ann took her hand. Anne, heady, felt like whispering, “I love you,” but George and Elizabeth were there, and the two boys were screeching at the fireworks, excited by every boom and trail of sparks. 

She, instead, lifted Ann’s hand to her lips to kiss it. She felt more than saw Ann’s smile. 

***

They walked well into Arlington to catch an Uber. The boys fell asleep in the SUV. When they reached the house in Loudon, Anne herself was nearly asleep, and could swear Ann was drooling.

They politely declined coffee from George and Elizabeth and were shown to a bedroom and a bathroom they’d have to share with the kids.

“I don’t care, I’m showering,” Anne said, and ducked into the bathroom.

Ann said, “I’m going straight to bed,” and there was something like pain in her face, which Anne didn’t recognize. 

When she came to bed after the shower, Ann was asleep, and Anne kissed her shoulder before falling asleep beside her.

***

The next day, Ann and Anne turned in at an early nine o’clock, after dinner, the news, which George had commented on voraciously, and a disturbing episode of _The Boys_ after the children had been put to bed. 

Changed into pajamas, Anne contemplated the book on her nightstand, and then contemplated Ann, who was brushing her hair in front of the dresser mirror. 

“It’s early,” Anne said, cocking a brow at Ann in the mirror.

Ann turned around and grinned, but didn’t say anything. She put down the brush and picked up a hairtwist and put her hair into a ponytail.

A good sign.

Ann sat down on Anne’s side of the bed, pushing against her hip. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” Anne said.

Ann took Anne’s hand, studying it. “I don’t know if I would have ever had the strength to come up here on my own. I might never have seen the children again. God knows they would never visit.”

“Ann,” Anne said, drawing Ann’s gaze up to her face. “I want to tell you—“

“Stop!” Someone shouted downstairs. 

Anne hesitated. Ann squeezed her hand and looked at the bedroom door.

“Why are you always like this?” Elizabeth said.

George replied. “Me? Me! I do everything to make you happy. I bring your sister up here—“ 

Ann cringed.

Anne swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting next to Ann, tense.

“You spent all day in your office,” Elizabeth said.

“I have work to do! Ever try it? God, you’re such an embarrassment.” 

There was silence for a moment. Then the sound of breaking glass.

Anne lunged toward the door. 

Ann caught her elbow. “Anne. Please don’t.”

“Somebody’s going to get hurt,” Anne said, angry at the grip on her arm, eager to wrest it away.

“They never hit each other. They’re just… having an argument.”

“Ann. That’s not how—”

“ _Please_ , Anne.”

Anne sat back on the bed, not looking at Ann. Pretty sure Ann was also not looking at her. She took deep breaths.

The volume of the argument had lowered, as if Elizabeth and George remembered they had guests. Anne wondered what the children could hear and another wave of rage crashed over her. 

“Ann, what about the kids? The work you do—You know how—“

But Ann wasn’t listening. She was shaking, hard enough to finally get Anne’s attention. 

“Ann?” Anne turned toward her.

Ann’s eyes were red and filled with tears. The rest of her was pale. She would have been utterly still if not for the shivers going through her, and the slight rocking back and forth. 

Anne put her hand on Ann’s shoulder.

Ann flinched. “I’m fine. I’m having a panic attack. It isn’t—“ She pushed her hands to her eyes. She hissed through her teeth.

“The hell it isn’t,” Anne said.

Ann took chattering breaths. “It’s not their fault. This just… being up here is incredibly stressful. And you’re cross, now, and…” Her voice had a pinched, soprano keening that Anne hadn’t heard before.

Anne watched Ann rock for a few moments, trying to get a grip on her own emotions.

The shouting below had stopped. Whether George and Elizabeth had worked it out, or had switched to whispered recriminations, didn’t matter.

Ann pressed her fists to her mouth and screamed.

Anne got off the bed and went to Ann’s overnight bag and dug through the prescription bottles. She found the one she wanted and pulled it out.

“Ann. Klonopin.”

“No, that shit’s awful.” Ann hissed through clenched teeth.

Anne came back to the bed. “Please. It will help.”

Ann thought it over with her eyes shut. “Fine. But. I’m just going to sit on the floor.”

“Okay.” 

Anne went to the bathroom and filled a water glass and brought it back to Ann, who’d settled cross-legged on the floor next to the bed. Anne handed her a pill after checking the dosage.

Ann swallowed it, and then water, and then hugged herself tightly. The tears were falling freely now. 

Anne put the water on the nightstand. She waited for guidance. She’d never had a panic attack. She’d rarely been afraid. She’d been born with a confidence she’d found ordinary until she became old enough to see her despondent, alcoholic mom. Until she’d gone to college and then the academy and seen people with white-hot terror in their eyes over an exam, or a date, or a spider. She’d been born extraordinary, and she didn’t know why. If she could extract her blood and inject it into Ann, she would.

Ann’s shivering had calmed, but she still had her eyes closed and her fists clenched. There were little nail marks in her wrists where she dug in her fingers. 

“Anne?” Ann said.

“I’m right here.”

“Read to me. Something very boring.”

“There are so many choices,” Anne said, glad when Ann chuckled.

Anne picked up her phone, searched, and started orating:

“While the manufacture of rubber goods is in no sense a secret industry, the majority of buyers and users of such goods have never stepped inside of a rubber mill, and many have very crude ideas as to how the goods are made up. In ordinary garden hose, for instance, the process is as follows: The inner tubing is made of a strip of rubber fifty feet in length—“

“Oh God. Anne. Not that boring.”

“Fine, fine.” Anne pulled up one her bookmarks, one of her favorite essays. “Here we go.”

“Again, a beautiful object, whether it be a living organism or any whole composed of parts, must not only have an orderly arrangement of parts, but must also be of a certain magnitude; for beauty depends on magnitude and order. Hence a very small animal organism cannot be beautiful; for the view of it is confused, the object being seen in an almost imperceptible moment of time. Nor, again, can one of vast size be beautiful; for as the eye cannot take it all in at once, the unity and sense of the whole is lost for the spectator…” 

Anne paused.

“That’s fine,” Ann said. “But it’s bullshit.”

“I knew you would say that.” Anne huffed, but Ann had stopped rocking. 

Anne kept reading, keeping an eye on Ann as her breathing improved and her color got better. When she could tell Ann was drowsy, she invited Ann into bed. 

Ann got up, shrugging herself awake, and went to the bathroom and then drank the water beside the bed. 

She slipped in next to Anne, and put her forehead against Anne’s shoulder. “Who wrote that?”

“Aristotle.”

“You’ve tricked me into learning something about Aristotle,” Ann said.

Anne turned, putting her hand on Ann’s waist. “Does it make you feel different?”

“Hardly.” Ann yawned. “I’m going to be completely strung out in the morning. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Ann.” 

“Yeah.” Ann moved closer to Anne. “Fuck them if they think their problems are going to mess up my relationship. Are you still cross?”

“No.”

“Have you ever thrown a wine glass at someone?” Ann asked, sleepily.

“I’m no saint.”

“Nope. Only sinners allowed in my bed.”

Anne smiled. Sure enough, Ann presently began snoring, and there would be drool. Anne banished all her intrusive thoughts about fixing Elizabeth until the next day.

***

Ann and Anne took Elizabeth and the four children to McDonalds. The play area was mostly lost on them. Charles and Evan had their tablets. The baby stayed in Elizabeth’s arms. But it was nice, neutral territory with breakfast and pretty good coffee.

When they’d settled in, Elizabeth looked warily between them.

“We heard you fighting last night, Elizabeth,” Ann said.

“If you ever want, and maybe not now…” Anne said.

“...You can come to the farm. All of you. We’ll take care of you.” Ann said.

Elizabeth looked at the ceiling. “Guys. I’m sorry you heard that, but it’s—we have an arrangement. Things aren’t easy, but they are what they are.”

“They don’t have to be,” Ann said.

“Oh, so now you’re stable enough to take care of a family? Do you even know what that means?” Elizabeth asked, looking sharply at her sister.

Ann looked at her hands.

“She wasn’t the easiest person to get along with,” Elizabeth said, to Anne this time. “But things are fine now. They’re fine.”

Anne set her jaw.

Ann picked up her coffee, and then set it down.

“Thank you very much for the fireworks show,” Elizabeth said.

“Elizabeth, I’m serious. Anything you need—“ Ann started.

“I don’t need anything from you. You’re the one I always had to take care of.”

Anne sipped her coffee.

Elizabeth exhaled. “Who are you even, without the drugs?”

“Hey,” Anne said, leaning forward.

Ann put her hand on Anne’s wrist. “Elizabeth, I want to help.”

“You have no idea how humiliating it is to need help from little Ann Walker.” She twisted around in her chair. “We’re leaving in five minutes, kids!”

Anne lowered her voice to Ann. “What did you do to her when you were young?”

“I got all the attention,” Ann said. “My brother got all the admiration. Elizabeth was either invisible or a burden.”

Elizabeth glared. “And now everyone’s gone but us.”

Anne blithely sipped her coffee. 

“Nothing you want to say?” Elizabeth asked Anne.

“My parents sent me to boarding school when I was 14, and I promptly got kicked out for fucking my roommate. Then I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle. After that my mom successfully drank herself to death. I never saw her again.”

“It’s not a competition,” Elizabeth said.

“I had no idea,” Ann breathed. She caressed Anne’s palms.

“It’s fine,” Anne said.

Elizabeth got up to throw their trash away. “It’s time, kids. If everyone’s in the car in sixty seconds, we’ll get cookies from the drive through.”

Charles and Evan began tucking away their tablets, scrambling.

The daughter strolled more glumly from the playground.

“Very efficient,” Anne said as they stood up. 

Elizabeth scowled.

***

Anne and Ann were in a Lyft back to Reagan airport.

“I’m not saying alcohol is a solution to all our problems…” Ann started.

“Airport bar is our first stop,” Anne said.

“Then we can toast to family,” Ann said.

“How about just to ‘Happy days’?” Anne asked.

“Perfect.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much sadness. And LBGTQ+ kids.

Samuel Washington met Anne at the public house in Greenville on Friday night. They sat at the bar, where Anne had what was on tap from Fullsteam, and Sam had the sazerac. They each declined to taste the other’s drink.

Then Sam pulled a police file out of his briefcase. “I want you to look at this. Before you eat.”

“It’s that bad?”

He rubbed his pale cheek, a day’s stubble visible. “It’s bad, Anne. And you’ll know why.”

Anne made sure they were relatively alone at the bar, and then she opened the file. On top was a photograph of a girl hanging from a tree. “Jesus.”

“Look familiar?” Sam asked.

Anne frowned. “Like Deanna?”

“Like Deanna. This girl’s trans, too. But this is in Georgia.” He tapped the photograph. 

Anne turned it over and read the police report, musing, “We caught Deanna’s killer. The uncle, right?”

“And this one, too,” Sam said. “The grandfather.”

“You think they didn’t do it?”

“I think they did. That’s the thing. This is not a normal way people get killed. It doesn’t make any sense individually or as a pattern. And only a few weeks apart? In the South?”

Anne leaned back, thinking.

Sam sipped his sazerac. 

“You want the FBI to look into it,” Anne said.

“Yeah. I just have the local resources. Saw this new case in the newspaper.”

“I’ll open a case. And keep it open. That way any M.O. like this will automatically get flagged.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, with a forceful exhale.

Anne sipped her beer. “Why are we meeting at the public house?”

“If you thought I was crazy, I didn’t want you to say that in your office, where’d it sound more official.”

Anne nodded. “Is this my copy?”

“No, I’ll email you.” He took the file back and tucked it into his bag.

“I’ll have to open it with another agent. Bill Pargrave will do it.”

Sam grinned. “Bill Pargrave. He’s where?”

“Rocky Mount.”

Sam chuckled.

“You know him?”

“Sure. I’ve met him at a few conferences. FBI training us good ole boys on their fancy techniques and such. But I _know_ him from an event I moonlighted at one night. I was the bouncer when my wife was pregnant. Trying to get extra money?”

“Oh yeah?” 

Sam took a long, slow drink, and then pursed his lips. “It was a Cinco de Mayo event. BDSM only. He and his wife, uh, what’s her name?”

“Keiko.”

“They came in. He didn’t recognize me, but I recognized him. And I don’t want to know what they did in that private room.”

Anne smirked. “Bill always did know how to have a good time.”

“I don’t know how I’ll look him in the eye next time I see him in a black suit,” Sam said. “Anyway, oysters?”

Anne checked her watch, and then her phone. “Sure, why not.” 

Sam waved for the bartender.

***

Saturday at five, Anne left work and texted Ann. “Want me to bring dinner?”

“Nope. Already cooking. There are two kids here, by the way.”

“Two?”

“You’ll see.”

A little dread mixed with excitement in Anne’s stomach. Was she graduating to two?

She got gas and drove leisurely to the farm, glad it was summer and the sun stayed out.

The dogs greeted her car, and then Ann came out onto the porch. It was a little thing, Ann coming out to greet her, instead of waiting for her knock, but it warmed Anne all over.

Ann kissed her, soundly, on the porch. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Anne’s heart flip-flopped. She still hadn’t told Ann how much she loved her, and it was becoming impossible to contain.

Ann led her into the house, where the smell of tomato sauce and oregano hit her.

A teenage girl sat on the couch, watching the TV. 

A younger boy sat next to her, playing on a tablet.

“Anne, this is Laurel.”

Laurel paused the TV, turned around, and beamed. “Wow. You really are an FBI agent.”

Anne cleared her throat and glanced at Ann. “Yes. That’s not the most interesting thing about me.”

“What’s the most interesting thing about you?” Laurel asked.

“She collects antique French books,” Ann supplied.

Anne glanced at her. “That’s the most interesting thing about me?”

“Other than the fact that you’re an FBI agent,” Ann said, grinning. “This is Phillip.”

Phillip looked up from his game at the sound of his name. He turned to them, smiling shyly. He had a black eye.

“Ann,” Anne growled.

“He’s safe. He’s having a good time,” Ann said under her breath.

“Hi Laurel. Hi Phillip. What are you watching?” Anne approached the couch.

“ _13 Reasons Why_. You know, like, ironically.”

“I see.”

“We made you dinner!” Phillip said. “Ann said you were very important.”

Anne’s cheeks reddened. “That’s nice to hear. Thank you guys for cooking.”

Laurel settled back on the couch. “It’s funny that you and Ann are like… you know… when I just came out to my parents yesterday. Ugh. Wait. Is that like… intentional?” She twisted around, looking at Ann in the kitchen, and then at Anne.

“It’s a thing,” Anne said. “Did your parents take it badly?” She tried to not interrogate, but she was used to asking questions in conversations with strangers.

“No, not really. But it was like, too much. So I got in my car and took off. The cops found me and the social worker said I could come here for the night before going back home, as long as I talked to my parents on the phone. Oh my god, they were annoyed.”

“I’ll bet.” Anne crossed to the other side of the couch and sat in the easy chair there. 

Phillip played his game. He was wearing a crisp polo and ironed pants, and his hair was well-groomed. 

Laurel said, “I think Phillip’s here for the same reason. You know.”

“How are old are you, Phillip?” Anne asked.

“Nine,” he said automatically.

Laurel shrugged.

Ann brought lemonade to Anne, who thanked her by squeezing her hand.

“Are you, like, married?” Laurel asked.

Ann blushed.

“Not yet,” Anne said, and then took a long drink of lemonade.

***

Anne and Ann sat at the kitchen island, drinking chai teas. The kids were upstairs. Phillip was actually asleep, snoring through the baby monitor. Laurel was probably on her laptop.

“I have to tell you something,” Anne said. “It’s about Deanna.”

“What? Deanna?” Ann’s face was confusion and worry.

“There’s been another girl killed. The uh, same way. In Georgia.”

“Another—“

“Trans girl, yeah.”

Ann’s face fell. “That’s awful.” She took a contemplative moment. Then frowned more deeply. “You think they’re connected?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, yet.” Anne reached forward, smoothing Ann’s hair behind her ear. “I wish I did.”

Ann sighed.

“That was my bad news. Now. Tell me about Phillip.”

Ann glanced at the baby monitor. “It’s an old story. His dad wanted to toughen him up. Smacked him around. His mother finally had had enough and reported him. She’s going to leave him. Phillip’s just here for a night or two, while everything calms down.” She gazed at the ceiling and exhaled. “While everyone figures out the next steps.”

“He seems like a good kid.”

“He’s very sweet. Wants to go back home to his mom and dad. He’s sorry he’s the way he is.”

Anne nodded. Her tea suddenly tasted like dust in her mouth. She put the mug down.

“That leads to… “ Ann looked away nervously. “I need a favor. About Phillip.”

“Okay?”

“On Monday he has a supervised visit with his dad. Down at the family center. I can’t go. I have an appointment in Raleigh I absolutely cannot miss.”

“You want me to go.”

Ann hesitated. “Yes.”

“To a room with Phillip’s dad.”

Ann turned and met her eyes and didn’t say anything.

“Good thing I passed my foster care background check with the state, I guess,” Anne said.

Ann sagged in relief.

“What’s the appointment?” Anne asked mildly.

Ann pursed her lips.

“Oh. Nevermind, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, it’s… it’s not that. It’s therapy. But it’s more… treatment.”

“And James is taking you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Is it dreadful?”

Ann blinked away tears. “It’s hard. And insanely hard to schedule.”

Anne took Ann’s hands and pressed them between her own. “I love you.”

“What?” Ann’s eyes widened.

“I love you.”

Ann swallowed. “I love you, too. You know… that.” She bit her lip.

“Should we turn in for the night?”

“Yes.” Ann said. “Leave the mugs for the morning.”

***

Anne worked at the laptop for a while after breakfast. Then she joined Ann on the back porch. The kids were playing with the dogs. Laurel would toss a ball and Charlie would run after it.

Lorenzo snuffled Phillip, who squealed when he got dirty but petted Lorenzo’s head anyway.

Anne stood at the railing and Ann joined her.

Anne put an arm around her shoulders. “This is nice. I could get used to this.”

“Hm?” 

“Have you ever thought about it? Kids? Marriage?”

Ann tensed. “Anne.”

Anne tried to step sideways, but Ann clutched her waist, held her close. “Anne. Look at me.”

They turned to each other; looked into their eyes. 

“Anne. I may always be ill. I can’t even begin to contemplate… what a life without being ill would be like. You’re the first person I’ve _ever_ dated. I’m not ready for this conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Anne said, and tried to back away.

Ann grabbed her waist, pulled her close. “I’m just trying to be honest. I can’t… Give you what you want.”

Anne relented, hugging Ann, who put her cheek on Anne’s shoulder. Ann said, “I wish…”

“No. This is lovely. Wonderful. I’ll work on things if you will.”

“Of course,” Ann said. “I love you. I can’t think a week past that.”

Anne kissed Ann’s hair. 

They swayed together on the porch.

Buddy barked. 

Anne looked at the children. “Hey, guys, time to get ready for church. Five more minutes then you gotta wash all that dog off you.”

“Anne.” Ann chided, still in Anne’s embrace. “We can’t take them to my church. Or your church. If they were long-term fosters, it’d be different, but Laurel’s only here for the day.”

“They’d make good little Anglicans,” Anne said.

Ann smacked Anne’s stomach.

“We’ll take them down to the Unitarian church, if you don’t mind the drive. They’re on my rotation.”

“Ah. That sounds fine.”

Phillip rushed past them and into the house.

Laurel threw the ball one more time, and then drifted toward them. “Isn’t taking us to church like, illegal?”

“Not this one,” Anne said.

***

They parked and got out of the Prius, Anne having proudly used the booster seat for the first time.

They approached the church, which had a rainbow flag flying in front of it.

“You brought us to Gay Church?” Laurel asked, in awe.

“The world’s not perfect but it’s not that bad,” Anne said.

“Please do not quote Youtube stars at me,” Laurel said, rolling her eyes, but smiling big.

Phillip’s gaze was on the flag. “What’s that doing there?”

Ann knelt in front of him. “That’s for you. It means you’re included and a whole rainbow of people will love you and call you their family.”

Phillip considered. “Okay.”

***

They stood in the pews, Laurel, Ann, Anne, and then Phillip, and sang the hymn together.

“Blow, winds of love, awake and blow the mists of hate away;  
sing out, O Truth divine, and tell how wide and far we stray.  
The letter fails, the systems fall, and every symbol wanes;  
the Spirit overseeing all, Eternal Love, remains.”

Anne’s throat constricted with an onslaught of tears. She looked straight ahead as they all sat down. She thought about her excitement that morning, imagining a life together. Getting a day, a week, instead. Her heart, she surveyed, was intact. But there was fear in her chest and heat in her mouth. 

Ann took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

Anne glanced at her. 

“I’m yours,” Ann murmured.

Then they were bowing their head in confession. Anne confessed to a jealous heart and a weak will, and to being a wholly inadequate part-time parent. And felt okay.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fan service. NSFW.

“Miss W – came to me at eight and ten minutes – had showed me her bosom and, on my asking her, took off her night things and stood naked.” Anne Lister’s diary, July 31, 1834.

Anne declined the money for the supervised visitation of Phillip and his father. She took the vacation payout from the FBI instead, and forwarded her calls to Gillian.

The room she brought Phillip into at the family center had Legos and children’s toys in the corner, way too young for him, and a table where his father, Pete, sat.

“Dad!” Phillip ran to him and hugged him.

Anne stood in the corner, trying to look inconspicuous. 

His dad glanced at Anne, waited for her nod, and then hugged him back. “Hey, kiddo. How are you doing? How was staying with Miss Ann?”

“She has dogs!”

“But you’re afraid of dogs,” Pete said.

“No one else was, so I just tried,” Phillip said. “They were nice. Especially Lorenzo.”

“How’s your eye?” Pete gently cupped Phillip’s chin and examined it.

“It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Pete said. “I’m sorry I did that.”

“It’s okay. I know I…” Phillip looked down at the table.

“No. I love you, Phillip.” Pete hugged Phillip again, more roughly. 

Anne frowned.

Pete held Phillip by the shoulders. “Your mom wants you and I to live apart for a while, Phillip. So I won’t get to see you as much. But I love you. I didn’t realize how much until… Until I was going to lose you. Until I lost her.” He sniffed, and wiped his mouth. “You’re my son.”

“Even if I’m…” Phillip struggled to articulate. “One of the...gays?” He whispered, and then looked over his shoulder at Anne.

Pete bristled. “You’re nine, how could you—“ He stopped. He glanced at Anne, who was giving him her best ‘The FBI is no joke’ glare.

“There’s no ‘even if,’ Phillip,” Pete said. “If you’re gay, if you’re purple, if you hate dogs, if you fail school, if you want to live in California… You’re my son. And I’m your father. No matter what.”

“I want to play handbells at church.”

“Okay.”

***

With Ann in Raleigh, Anne went home to her bare apartment, and ate a Lean Cuisine, and tried to read a book.

She texted Gillian, just for the reminder. “What’s the first goal of LGBTQ people?”

The response came swiftly. “To protect our youth.”

Anne poured another glass of wine.

Another text came. “No hits yet on the Georgia M.O.”

“Thanks,” Anne texted.

Ann hadn’t shared any details of her procedure in Raleigh, so Anne wasn’t sure about texting that night. So she went to bed early on a Monday night, and tossed and turned for hours.

***

In the morning she had a text from Ann waiting, despite the early hour. “Good morning. Too tired to think last night. Call me, I’ll be up.” There was an emoticon making a kissing face next to it.

Anne called on the way to work. “Hello,” she said to Ann’s breathy greeting. “How was yesterday?”

“Terrible. And yet, not bad. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“I know you have to work that country music show Thursday night. I’m still… thinking about it. But. What if I came up tomorrow? Saw where you worked, where you live. Stay the night?”

“Ann,” Anne said, contemplating it. “Won’t that make you… nervous?”

“Yes. But I want to see your life. I want to know what your home smells like.”

“Okay. Yes. Come tomorrow afternoon. I’ll text you the address. And I’ll let you know if I have to cancel.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The line clicked off. Anne tried not to panic about the cleaning she would have to do in the next 24 hours. What should her home smell like? 

Ann wanted to be in her life in a big way. Somehow this was a more monumental step than practically living at the farm on the weekends. Her hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. She made a mental list of questions to ask Gillian.

***

On Wednesday, Ann texted when she and James left the farm, which gave Anne time to clean and re-clean her desk. She’d been banished to her office after nagging her assistants too much. They were having none of it.

She’d gotten no work done. Anne’s career had somehow gone from first place to third place in her heart. If she was promoted, would Ann leave with her? Anne wouldn’t blame her for balking at that.

The door chimed.

Anne got up and wiped her hands on her suit pants. Gillian was talking. Anne went out to the reception area.

Ann was there in a summer dress that looked like wisps of lilac swirled around her. She carried a satchel and a basket full of biscuits. 

“These are for you,” Ann thrust them at Gillian after Gillian greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Did you make them?” Gillian asked.

“Of course. Not my recipe, though. John Booth’s momma’s.” 

Gillian passed the basket to the other receptionist.

“Ann, this is Spratt,” Anne said.

“My name is Thomas Sowden,” Thomas said, standing up and extending his hand to Ann. “Good to meet you.”

Ann shook it. Then she peeked at Anne. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

“Me either.” Anne gestured. “Come see my office.”

Anne ushered Ann in and then shut the door, not before hearing Gillian snicker.

Ann put her satchel down next to the desk. “Hi,” she said, beaming.

“Hi.” Anne cupped her face and kissed her warmly. 

“Your desk is very neat,” Ann said, surveying.

“I stuffed all the papers into drawers.” 

Ann chuckled. She touched the figurines on Anne’s desk.

“I have another hour or so,” Anne said. “Are you staying?”

“No, I thought I’d go to your place and start cooking?”

“Oh. Sure.” Anne dug in her pocket for her keys, and then removed the house key from the ring.

“Thanks,” Ann said. “James is outside.”

Anne nodded.

“One more thing.” Ann leaned in. “Is Thomas Sowden like, ten years old?”

“He’s twenty-three, and has a dual degree in Psychology and Criminal Justice.”

“But he’s not in the FBI?”

“It’s a long story and has to do with his asshole of a father. But he’s saving up to move to the DMV and become a cop.”

Ann smiled. “When he gets some hair on his chin.” 

“Right. So. You’re going to my apartment by yourself…”

“Mm hm.”

“And you’re going to touch all my things, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to get finger oil all over your books,” Ann said.

Anne grinned. She pulled Ann into a hug, and whispered in her ear. “Do whatever you want.”

Ann traced Anne’s back. “I will later.” She kissed Anne’s neck and stepped back. “See you soon.”

She walked Ann to the outer door and watched until Ann and James had driven away. Then she went back inside and straight to her office. She suddenly wanted to get her work done.

***

Anne walked through the apartment door an hour and a half later. She was welcomed with the scent of lima beans and tomatoes and bacon. 

“Mm.” She put down her bag.

Ann had been on the sofa, and got up to greet her at the door. “Anne.”

“Hi--” she said to an onslaught of kisses, finding herself pressed against the door. 

Ann kissed her jaw, and then her neck. “I missed you. I felt so far away in Raleigh, knowing you were dealing with Phillip.”

Anne held her close. “It went well. All is well, Ann.”

Ann tilted her head back, gazed into Anne’s face. “It is now.”

Anne kissed her, content to have Ann petting her shoulders, her arms, her back. 

Ann relaxed. She nuzzled Anne’s throat, then pressed her cheek to Anne’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

“You made me dinner,” Anne said.

“Mm. Succotash and pork belly peach tacos. Are you ready to eat now?”

“Definitely.”

“It’ll take ten minutes to get everything where I want it. Maybe you could...change?”

“I’ll change. And shower. Any requests?”

Ann blushed. She disentangled herself from Anne and went into the kitchenette. “Just come back soon.”

Anne took her bag into the bedroom. She stripped and showered, and stood naked, contemplating her clothing choices, until Ann’s voice called through the door. “Almost ready?”

“Yeah.” Anne threw on flattering jeans and a plaid button-down. She French-tucked the shirt and added a belt. She left her feet bare. It was her apartment, after all. She combed through her half-blown-dry hair again, then went out.

Ann had set her small table with two plates of food, glasses of water, and wine. 

Anne approached. The bacon smell was intoxicating. “This isn’t my wine.”

“James gave away your secret. Since it’s July, I thought a sparkling summer rose would pair well with the light food.” She seemed proud of her summary.

Anne grinned. She lifted a glass. 

Ann lifted the other one, standing by the table. “To ‘Happy Days,’ and ‘pink champagne.’”

Anne sipped. The rose was dry as a bone. She resisted snatching up the label and examining it. It would go well with the stronger flavors of fruit and butter and tomatoes. 

She smiled at Ann and sat down, happy.

Ann joined her. 

“So,” Anne asked, draping a napkin over her lap. “What does my apartment smell like?”

“Old paper. And… gun oil? And you. I may have smelled your soaps.”

Anne reached out her hand, and Ann took it. Anne brought it to her lips. “Thank you, Ann.”

Ann returned the gesture, and then they let go, giggling.

***

When they’d cleaned up, Ann led Anne to her living room. “Would you mind if we danced?”

“I’d love to dance,” Anne said. “But--”

“Alexa, play pop ballads.”

“Okay,” Alexa said.

Anne ducked her head. “You found her.” 

“That doesn’t mean I know all your secrets.” Ann draped her arms over Anne’s shoulders.

Anne held her waist.

The music started, “And I swear by the moon and the stars in the sky…”

“I’m picking next time,” Anne said.

“Hush. The sentiment is real,” Ann said, grinning.

Anne pressed her forehead to Ann’s. They swayed together. 

The song was romantic. By the end they were bare toe to bare toe, and there wasn’t an inch of daylight between them.

“Wonderful Tonight” started.

Ann tilted her head back, taking Anne in. She put her hand on Anne’s jaw. “When I imagined, by some miracle, that I would meet someone who would make me want to leave my house, I didn’t imagine she would be so handsome.”

Anne smiled. She leaned into Ann’s hand. “What did you imagine?”

“Someone more like me,” Ann said. 

“There’s no one else like you, Ann.”

“That goes for both of us.”

They kissed. Ann’s hand traveled from Anne’s face to her breast, and then to her belt. She worked her fingers into it. “Can we… go to bed?”

Anne nodded. Ann could feel her heat under her fingertips. 

Ann, mercifully, let go of her belt, and yanked her shirt out of her pants instead, pressing her belly. “I’ve been thinking about this for days.”

“Me, too. And especially for the last few hours,” Anne said.

They walked hand-in-hand to the bedroom. Ann turned her back to Anne, pulling her hair away from her dress. “There’s a zipper.”

“So there is.” 

Anne unzipped Ann’s dress and lowered it. Ann stepped out of it. Anne hung it up in her closet, and when she turned around, Ann had shed the rest of her clothes, and stood naked.

“Ann,” Anne breathed. 

Anne pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. Then unbuckled her belt, aware of Ann’s intense gaze on her. She pushed her jeans and underwear down, and stepped out of them, and kicked them away. Then she turned around, the way Ann had. 

“My bra?”

Chuckling, Ann came and unclasped it. She let it fall, and hugged Anne from the back. “I could spend hours touching you,” Ann said.

“I hope there’s a ‘but’ in there.” 

“But, as you know, I am so very inexperienced.” The kisses being pressed to Anne’s shoulder blade belied that. “So I don’t actually know what to do with the lube I bought.”

“Go get it,” Anne said.

Ann went to her satchel. Anne turned down the blankets on her bed, wondering whose side should be whose. Then, remembering there was lube involved, went to her closet and got a beach towel and threw it over the bed. It was orange, and had “Not today, Satan” in big black letters.

Ann glanced from the towel to Anne.

“Lube is messy,” Anne said.

“I don’t think that was my question.” 

Ann handed off the small bottle, and then went and lay on the towel on her back, and tossed her arm over her eyes. “Do I look beachy?”

“More boudoir-ish,” Anne said.

Ann removed her arm and grinned. “That’s how I feel.”

Anne knelt over Ann. She trailed her hand between Ann’s legs. “I see we’re skipping the foreplay session of the evening,” she said.

“That was called, ‘the evening,’ my dearest.”

Anne chuckled. “Okay. Compare and contrast.” She slid her fingers through Ann’s wetness, circling her opening and then stroking upward to her clit. 

“Okay,” Ann said. She was half-lidded, but following Anne’s hands as she opened the lube.

“This will feel weird.” Anne applied some to her fingertips and set aside the bottle.

Ann opened her legs wider. 

Anne pressed her fingertips to Ann, this time pressing them downward. She circled Ann’s clit, and then her entrance. Her fingers moved easily.

Ann bit her lip. “It’s so much more intense. I can feel you everywhere at once.”

“Friction is our enemy,” Anne said. 

“Come here,” Ann said. 

Anne settled onto her side. Ann’s arm slid around her back, holding her close. She gazed into Anne’s eyes, jolting every so often as she rocked against Anne’s hand.

“Closer,” Ann said.

Anne pressed herself to Ann. Ann’s nails were in her back. Her free hand held Anne’s elbow as Anne stroked her.

“Why didn’t you open with this,” Ann said. She thrust her hips against Anne.

“Every woman is different,” Anne said.

“I’m different than I was yesterday,” Ann said. “I feel like I have a thousand nerve endings. Don’t say ‘Technically,’”

Anne pressed her lips together. 

Ann held onto her, drove into her. A position she seemed to favor, having Anne between her and the rest of the world. Ann came. She pulled Anne’s arm, holding her close, and let out a keening cry of lustful satisfaction. 

Anne kissed her forehead. When Ann freed Anne from her grip, Anne settled down beside her. 

Ann’s eyes were closed. “I’m going to make a list of sex questions I want answers to.”

“I’ll Google them and then pretend I knew all along.”

Ann smiled.

Anne wiped her fingers on the towel. 

Ann rolled onto her side and sloppily kissed Anne. 

Anne took her hand. 

“I’m thrashed, Anne. I can barely move.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Anne traced Ann’s fingers.

“No, it’s your turn.”

“There aren’t turns, darling.”

Ann pressed another kiss to Anne’s mouth, this time pulling Anne’s lower lip between her teeth. “I insist.”

“Okay,” Anne said.

“I want to watch you.” Ann took a deep breath. “I want to watch you masturbate.”

Anne considered objecting. Doing it side-by-side as a fun game had been one thing, but to lie before Ann’s voyeuristic gaze and expose herself…

Ann moved their linked hands down Anne’s body, pushing them against her stomach.

Letting Ann take charge had its consequences. But to refuse the request now felt like shutting a door. A door she wanted open, even if the light shining from the other side was blinding. She blinked against it.

“Not today, Satan,” she murmured.

“What?” Ann asked.

“I feel… vulnerable,” Anne said.

“You do?” Ann’s gaze traveled down her body, and then back up to her eyes. “Anne Lister? What’s that look like?”

Anne harrumphed. She freed her hand and reached between her legs. Her body was willing even if the spirit wasn’t. Ann’s gaze had traveled to where her wrist moved. 

“You turn me on so much,” Anne said.

Ann smiled, pleased. She’d curled her lip over her teeth, watching Anne.

The desire on Ann’s face, more than the familiar touch of her hand, pushed Anne to heightened arousal. She became more self-focused, less self-conscious, as she moved. She rolled onto her back, aware of the sweat building on her. 

Ann sat up, following Anne’s change in position with her gaze. She did not touch Anne. Her participation was purely visual. 

Anne finally looked back at her. 

Ann smiled as Anne met her eyes. “I wish you could feel the way I feel when I look at you, Anne. You’re incredible.”

“I’m going to come for you. Just you,” Anne said. 

Ann’s skin was pink, her eyes liquid. She uncurled her lip to exhale breathily. “Anne.”

Anne’s eyes fluttered shut as the orgasm came. She pressed her hand to herself, chasing every shockwave, every lingering tingle. Then she could taste the same exhaustion Ann felt, that splendid feeling of going through the door and having the light overtake her. Sated and joyous.

“Anne,” Ann said, and a hand touched her breast.

Anne opened her eyes. “You’ve unhinged me.”

“I want to touch you.”

“Claim what is yours,” Anne said.

Ann squirmed closer. She traced Anne’s nipple, and then her heart. “My Anne Lister. I don’t want you to fall apart for anyone else.”

“I never will,” Anne said. She pushed away thoughts of Marianna. How could she have settled for so little for so long?

Ann kissed her shoulder. 

“Alexa,” Anne called. “Play some Patsy Cline.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one dies in this one.

**Chapter Fourteen**

Anne stood with Bill Pargrave at the back of a crowd watching a country band on stage. At twilight, it was hot, and she’d been standing two hours, wishing her water were beer.

Bill had been at the smaller stages, but those wrapped up for the main stage.

“So, I hear you’ve been spending your time outside of Greenville. On a small farm, perhaps?”

Anne’s cheeks reddened. “Yes. It’s going well.”

“Friend to friend, it’s unlike you. You were always a woman in every port sort of girl.”

“One woman, one port. But yes." Anne took a deep breath. "Having a relationship with a married woman made me feel simultaneously unattached and sophisticated. As if the arrangement freed up that part of my life that would have been spent in endless pursuits for sex. So I could concentrate on the rest of my life. I considered myself brilliantly intellectual when it came to love.” She sighed.

“And now?” Bill asked.

“I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. I feel like a newborn colt.”

“Very freeing in its own way.”

“I suppose. Scary.”

“What are your goals?” he asked.

She sipped water. “I want to get married.”

“Would she leave all this?” Bill gestured at the scrub brush and twinkling lights around them. “To move to Washington?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

“She and I have very separate lives. And I fear they’re going to… become separately lived. Eventually.”

“When I met Keiko, we were in two entirely different worlds. I mean, there’s the FBI, and there’s not the FBI. But we liked spending time together. So we just kept doing it. And eventually, we found a way to support each other’s interests.”

“Having a child.”

“And having a lover.”

Anne smiled behind her bottle, and then said, “I heard an interesting story about that from a friend of mine.”

“About me?” Bill looked unruffled.

“You, Keiko, and a BDSM club.”

“Ah, yes. We do like that. You ever tried it?”

“I’m certainly adventurous,” Anne said. “But in private. With one person.”

“How droll.”

Anne chuckled. “We should all have dinner sometime. Do introductions.”

“We’re up to introductions already?”

“We’ve already met the families.”

“Marian must have been aghast.”

“She thinks I’ve stumbled blindly into good fortune, and that I’m almost certain to fuck it up.”

Bill sipped his water.

“Her family… doesn’t dislike me.”

“Do they dislike her?”

“Mm.”

“That’s the trouble with spending time with one person. They already have people.”

“Well, if I’m comparing myself to Ann, I certainly have the right people. Marian, you, Gillian.”

“Of course.” Bill squeezed her shoulder.

Anne’s radio crackled, and then a policeman said, “Some meth heads and drunks are fighting each other by stage three.”

“I’ll go,” Anne said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky with some federal drug charges.”

Bill squinted at the band on stage. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

***

Anne crept into Ann’s bedroom, finding her awake.

“Hello, handsome.” Ann said. “What time is it?”

“A little after midnight.” 

They kissed. Ann pulled back. “You smell.”

“I know. All the fun of an outdoor concert. I’m about to take a shower.”

Ann dragged her fingers along Anne’s jaw. “You do that.”

Anne was suddenly wide awake. She darted to the bathroom.

When she came out, Ann was on top of the sheets, naked.

Anne slipped out of the tee shirt and boxers she’d put on and got into bed.

Ann pressed herself against Anne. “I’ve missed you. It’s been hours.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Ann kissed Anne, quickly deepening it. Their legs entwined together. Anne felt Ann’s wetness against her thigh. She had been missed. The long car ride from the concert had made Anne drowsy. Now her mind was alert but her body remained languid. Comfortable.

“Now you smell really good,” Ann said, nosing her neck.

“You, too.”

Ann chuckled, rolling Anne over and settling on top of her. She brought her mouth to Anne’s. They moved leisurely together, hips rocking, legs sliding against legs. It felt like coming home. Anne sighed as Ann’s breasts pressed hers. She held onto Ann’s back and let the kissing become her main focus. She sucked Ann’s lower lip. Ann squirmed and began moving with more intent.

“I think about your hands on me all day long,” Ann said. “And my hands, on you.”

Anne shifted, bucking against Ann’s thigh.

“I wish we could come like this, together,” Ann said.

“We could try.”

Ann nibbled Anne’s ear and whispered, “I’m getting impatient.”

Anne gently guided Ann’s hips away from hers and to the bed. “Let me hold you.” She nudged Ann’s shoulder.

Ann rolled over and Anne lay against her back. She worked her arm under the pillow, snuggling up to Ann, and dropped her free hand over Ann’s hips. 

“It won’t be the best angle,” she said, dropping kisses along Ann’s shoulder.

“Who needs angles.”

Anne pressed her center against Ann, knowing Ann could feel her heat; her desire. She wanted Ann. She wanted Ann to fall apart in her arms.

She slipped between Ann’s legs. Her fingers moved easily, welcomed into Ann’s warmth. She found Ann’s clit. She touched the way Ann liked, and Ann bucked against her.

“Yes, Ann,” she said against Ann’s ear.

Ann put her hand on Anne’s wrist to feel her move.

“I want you to come just like this,” Anne said, stroking Ann.

Ann shuddered. She held Anne’s hand against her and rocked her hips. 

“I love you,” Anne breathed into Ann’s hair.

Ann keened, gripping Anne, thrusting hard twice more, and then stilling. Her body shivered. 

Anne continued to caress her, lightly, drawing more shudders from Ann, and a long moan.

Finally, Ann drew Anne’s hand to her mouth. She sucked on each finger. Anne squirmed.

Ann rolled onto her back. “Get on top of me.”

Anne crouched, settling on her knees along Ann’s legs. 

Ann smiled up at her, cherubic. “I want you to come apart over me.”

Anne kissed her, tasting, devouring. Ann moved her hand along Anne’s thigh, and then found her center and thrust two fingers into her, without preamble.

Anne hissed, pushing against them. “More.”

Ann added a third finger. Her palm bumped against Anne’s clit, somewhat ineffectually, causing Anne to groan and twist, seeking touches to slake her desire. 

Ann cupped Anne’s face with her other hand, staring at her, as if to memorize her.

Anne could not find a rhythm in the chaotic touches, the fingers sliding in and out of her of their own accord, her clit finding a firm hand and then losing track of it again. Instead of trying to set the pace, she let go of being in control, and tried to stay in the moment with Ann. Ann touching her. Ann taking in her every expression, every detail of her face.

The orgasm took her by surprise, just when she felt clarity. Ann’s fingers had slipped out, and had stroked her just so. Anne did indeed fall apart, her legs buckling so she fell fully onto Ann, gasping. Ann hugged her tightly, kept her still. Only her jolting hips moved. She was trying to chase lightning. 

Ann kissed her cheek. “I could get used to this.”

Anne relaxed. “Not too heavy?”

“No. Perfect.” Ann rubbed Anne’s back. “Stay like this a little while.”

“Okay.” Anne nuzzled Ann’s hair and closed her eyes.

“I love you, Anne.” Ann whispered. “So much.”

Maybe Anne had been overthinking when she’d been talking to Bill. Maybe life could just be a series of these moments, strung together. Her and Ann, and attention and love.

***

Anne stood outside the warehouse with a hundred other agents. Police, FBI, ATF, and DEA surrounded the building, with clumps of agents at each entrance. There was a second perimeter at each road entrance, and snipers, beyond. 

Her chest was fluttering. Her gun was already out; her grip sweaty. The earpiece in her ear was quiet. The walkie talkie hooked to her bulletproof vest, equally so. 

There were cameras already in the warehouse. Operation Carolina Bobcat was the result of a year of investigation, including undercover agents inside the gang. They had discovered the warehouse only two weeks ago, a full hour from I-95, built of pre-fabricated materials on top of an older concrete complex that someone had purchased ten years ago with a shell company.

Anne swallowed.

They had a no-knock warrant. Preserve evidence at all costs. 

“Go, go, go,” came the signal in her earpiece.

Stillness reigned for another moment, and then the first ATF agent flung open the door and charged inside. The team followed, then Anne. They spread out.

Guards positioned inside were smart enough not to open fire, and quickly got down on the ground as agents handcuffed them.

Anne moved farther into the warehouse. There were rumors of underground passages. She shown her flashlight. At 3 AM, they were hoping to take the workers unawares. A simultaneous raid was happening at another house where the leaders slept.

She followed an ATF agent down concrete steps. 

A woman was screaming.

Anne cleared a room, the ATF agent to the opposite of her, and when she swung back her flashlight it landed on a woman, mostly-naked, at the end of a short hallway.

“Stop!” Anne shouted.

The woman held a knife—nothing more than a switchblade—and stared wide-eyed at Anne.

The ATF agent came up behind her. Footsteps sounded on the stairs; agents drawn by the screams.

The woman charged at Anne with the knife.

“Stop!” Anne shouted. She didn’t want to shoot a naked woman.

The woman slammed into her with surprising strength. Anne toppled backward, the vest protecting her from the slashes hitting her chest. 

She hit the floor. Her head slammed back against the concrete.

Spots appeared, then an encroaching black.

The ATF agent opened fire on the woman, who got one stab with her knife into Anne’s leg before collapsing on top of her.

Swallowed up, Anne’s fleeting thoughts were of Deanna. She managed to mutter, “Ah, shit,” before blacking out completely.


	15. Chapter 15

_So we pray to as many different Gods as there are flowers  
_ _We call religion our friend  
_ _We're so worried about saving our souls  
_ _Afraid that God will take his toll  
_ _That we forget to begin_

  * Jewel



Marian’s Lexus was a joy to drive. Absolutely quiet, smooth, with nothing but chill techno coming through expensive speakers, it was a place Marian found peace in.

But today, at dawn, rushing down a backroads highway, freaked out, she wanted something more visceral. She wanted to feel the road. She wanted to put all of her aggression into the speed, into the wind. It felt wrong, dishonest, to be in luxury when Anne—

“Call Ann Walker,” she demanded of her car.

It was six AM. She was afraid to wake Ann. She was afraid to not wake her.

When the call rolled over to voicemail she called again.

Ann’s sleepy voice answered. “Marian?”

“The first thing is, Anne is okay.”

“Marian!?” 

Marian winced. She’d had to choose between giving Ann a heads up and telling her in-person, and she regretted her choice.

“Everything’s fine,” she said.

Ann didn’t answer. Marian could hear her panting through the phone.

“Anne has a concussion. She was in a drug raid and got injured. She’s at the hospital in Greenville.”

Ann breathed. “I need to...call James.”

“No. I’m picking you up in a half hour. I’m on my way.”

“Okay.” Ann’s voice sounded far away, and small.

“See you soon.” Marian hung up, so she could focus on driving fast without crashing in the early morning sunshine.

***

Ann was distraught but composed when Marian came into the farm.

“I’ve packed a bag,” Ann said, after accepting a hug. “Clothes, toothpaste, deodorant. Should I bring food? I don’t know Anne’s favorite food. Why don’t I know Anne’s favorite food?”

“Ann.” Marian took her by the shoulders.

Ann met her gaze, wild-eyed, but attentive.

“Anne’s favorite food is Funyuns.”

“Oh. Gross.”

Marian smiled. “It’s going to be fine.”

Ann smoothed her hands over her shirt. “Why are you here?”

“I’m Anne’s emergency contact.”

“Of course. That makes sense.” Then. “Will they let me in? I’m not family.”

“They’re cops. They understand.”

Ann nodded. She hefted her bag.

Marian wrapped an arm around Ann’s shoulders and walked her out.

***

Anne woke up slowly. The lights were low but sunlight shone through a window. She felt drool on her cheek. Her head ached distantly. Like the memory of a terrible headache. 

Ann was sitting in a chair beside her bed, not looking at her.

“Ann?” Anne asked.

“Anne! You’re awake.” Ann turned to her, getting out of the chair and cupping Anne’s face in her hands. “How do you feel?”

Anne inventoried. “Confused. I was at a drug raid? And then… Gillian was there?”

“Gillian’s outside with Sam,” Ann confirmed. She glanced away from Anne again, and Anne followed her eyes.

Marian smirked at her. 

“Jesus, Marian, too? Am I dying?” 

Ann kissed her forehead and then sat back down. “No. You’re going to be fine in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?!” Anne struggled to sit up.

“You’ve been stabbed, Anne,” Marian said. “After nearly 20 years in the FBI with not so much as a scrape, someone finally got pissed off at you.”

“Ugh.” Anne sank back on the bed. 

Ann found the controls and lifted Anne into more of a sitting position. 

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Anne said to Ann. Her lower lip was quivering. She bit into it.

“Don’t be sorry,” Ann said. She took Anne’s hand, careful of the IV.

Anne gazed at Ann, meeting her eyes, happy to see her. 

Ann squeezed her hand.

“Well, if this is all taken care of, I’m going to go back to the waiting room and tell the others they can see you. And then plug in my laptop.”

“Thank you for being here,” Anne said. “And taking care of Ann.”

Marian smiled but didn’t say anything, and gave Ann’s shoulder a pat when she left.

Anne licked her lips. “You’re not mad?”

“No, Anne. I’m not mad that you’re hurt. That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m mad that I’m hurt,” Anne said.

Ann fiddled with her fingers. “You have a concussion. Will you come to the farm for a few days, at least?”

Anne exhaled. “I will.”

Ann smiled. 

Gillian knocked on the door and then came in. “Hey, boss. How are you?”

“I’m good.” Anne reached out a hand for her. “Where’s Spratt?”

“He’s at the office. The operation is still ongoing. He’s coordinating and all that.” Gillian took Anne’s free hand. 

Anne glanced at Ann, and then faced Gillian. “Gillian, can you tell me what happened?”

“Sam could better, probably. But you were in a hallway, a woman came at you and tackled you to the ground. She stabbed you. You didn’t shoot her even though you had your gun out. The guy with you did. Shot her up like a…” Gillian searched for a metaphor.

Ann winced.

“What about the rest of the operation?” Anne asked.

Gillian shook her head. “I’m not supposed to tell you complicated things. Because of your concussion.”

Anne exhaled. “God. I’m already bored.”

“I know how to rot your brain,” Ann said, shaking their linked hands.

“I’d better get back to the office and help Sprat—Thomas,” Gillian said. “Try and get some rest.” She left.

Ann said, “This is my opportunity to tell you the most boring stories I know.”

“I can’t wait to learn more about you, darling,” Anne said, with a weak smile.

Ann kissed her hand.

***

A day later, Bill Pargrave knocked on the hospital room door and came in.

Anne smiled when she saw him. “Bill. Bill, meet Ann.”

Ann had been sitting in a chair reading a magazine. She got up and shook Bill’s hand. “A pleasure. I didn’t think we’d be meeting like this.”

“You’ve got that right,” Bill said. He looked apprehensively at Anne. “When are you being released?”

“Tonight. They’re waiting on a few more tests.” 

“Can we talk? I’ve got a wheelchair outside, maybe we can go to the garden?” He glanced at Ann, and then at Anne.

“Sure, Bill.” Anne pushed herself up. “Work stuff?”

“I’m afraid so. Sorry, Ann.”

Ann waved him off.

Once in the wheelchair, it was a long ride to the exit and then the gardens. Anne wrung her hands with nervousness, afraid to ask why he was here, but trying to be strong. Trying to be prepared. 

Bill parked her by a bench down and sat down next to her. “Anne.”

“I’m suspended?” She asked. 

“Yes. With pay, of course. While they investigate. I wanted to be the one who told you,” he said. “Because I’m your friend. I care about you, Anne. I know the feeling is mutual.”

His kind words did nothing to blunt whatever he was about to say, and Anne was frozen.

He sighed. Pulled out his phone and turned the voice recorder on. He gave his information and then hers and then the date, and then “Operation Bobcat.”

Anne felt tears build up in her throat, and was embarrassed. She coughed.

“Anne, why didn’t you shoot your gun?”

“What?” 

“At the attacker. Cindy Loews.”

“She was unarmed—“

“She had a knife. She stabbed you.”

“She was practically naked. I couldn’t—“

“You broke protocol. You put your life in danger. You sustained serious injuries. And you put your team at risk.”

“Bill.”

He gazed steadily at her. 

She swallowed. “I’m not a coward, Bill. I chose not to fire.”

“It goes against your training.”

She sighed.

“Anne, you’re a great agent. A good interviewer. A good analyst. This was only your third operation with a no-knock warrant, ever. You’re not going to lose your career over this.”

“What about the guys?”

“They’re all saying you had their back and they would do the same thing in your place.”

That’s what she would have said.

“Maybe some retraining. But the bad news is, the investigation’s going to take a while, because of all the other Bobcat stuff we’re sorting through. We arrested fifteen people and have warrants out for eight more. Plus more heroin than I’ve ever seen.”

“Cindy? Was she trafficked?”

“Probably at first. But she was a lab worker. Hence the lack of clothes.”

Anne nodded. “And she’s dead.”

“Very dead. I’m sorry, Anne.”

Anne nodded again. She bit her lip. “What am I supposed to do?”

“If I were you I’d go to Atlanta. Investigate the death of the trans girls. See what you can dig up.”

That was a solid plan. 

Bill turned off the recorder and put his phone in his pocket. He took her hands. “I’d let you watch my six anytime, kid.”

“Thanks,” Anne said, and coughed with the lump in her throat.

He got up. “I’ll take you back to Ann, and then you can go home.”

He wheeled her back into her room. She was silent along the journey, willing tears not to fall. He and Ann helped her back into bed.

Bill left.

Anne began crying. She pushed her face into her hands.

“Anne,” Ann said. She sat on the bed and pulled Anne’s hands down. 

“I’ve been suspended,” Anne said.

Ann brought Anne’s hands to her lips, and kissed each one, and then held them against her face, closing her eyes.

“What are you doing?” Anne asked.

“Praying,” Ann said.


	16. Chapter 16

Anne sat on the porch, in the shade. The dogs lay on the lawn in the sun. She was bored, and bored of being bored. She had slept until she could sleep no more, and was now here, trying to be present and clear of mind. 

She had a slight headache.

Ann came out with a smoothie.

Anne took it mechanically, and sipped, barely glancing at her.

Cold chocolate filled her mouth. She swallowed. “Chocolate?”

“You look far too miserable for kale and protein.” Ann sat in the rocker beside hers.

“I am.” Anne sipped more. 

“Nice day,” Ann said.

“Hot.”

“Sure you don’t want to come inside with the air conditioner, lie in my lap, tell me stories about the last time you were in Paris?”

Anne grinned. “Maybe tomorrow. I’m still kind of foggy. Still… I mean, sometimes when people have concussions their brain never fully recovers.”

Ann pursed her lips, but said nothing.

Anne sulkily drank her chocolate. “You don’t think I’m being overdramatic, do you?”

“I’m the last person to tell anyone they’re being overdramatic. You have fear. It’s unsettling, isn’t it?”

“Mm.” Anne looked at the dogs. 

“We’re two invalids, together,” Ann said.

“It’s very boring. If I must, if I must have downtime, then I am reading, trying to fill my head with knowledge to prepare me for the next encounter. Not just… looking at dogs.”

“Very taxing, not being taxed.”

“Very vexing, not being vexxed.” Anne smiled. “I’m a terrible patient.”

“You’re lovely. And there’s nothing I can do for you, so I’m just going to soak up your presence.” Ann cupped the side of Anne’s head, then ran her finger down Anne’s ear.

 _For richer or poorer._ Anne frowned, concentrating on her smoothie.

“Is your favorite food really Funyuns?” Ann asked.

Anne snorted. “Maybe when I was sixteen. Wait, did Marian tell you that?”

“She was trying to cheer me up.”

“By slighting me. Where’s my phone?”

Ann chuckled. “So what is your favorite food, my Anne?”

Anne considered. “Barbecue. With a sauce so hot it’ll set your mouth on fire, followed up by the delicious, fat-soaked meat. Maybe with some coleslaw. But no beans. No distractions.”

“Well, someone’s going to get a ‘vinegar sauce of the month club’ box soon,” Ann said.

“Also, egg rolls.”

Ann smiled. She watched the dogs do nothing.

Anne finished her smoothie.

***

Dinner was early. Ann had taken Anne’s favorite foods to heart, and made lettuce wraps with the insides of an egg roll--cabbage, pork, carrots, ginger, and sesame oil. She served them with ECU Pirates hot sauce.

Anne devoured one. “You’re not going to let me have beer, are you?”

“You have a concussion and 14 days of antibiotics.”

Anne grumbled and made another wrap. “This is now my favorite food.”

“I’m just beginning,” Ann said.

Anne toasted her with the hot sauce bottle.

“What’s after?” Ann asked.

“Can we please watch something? Anything?”

“We can watch the Great British Bakeoff,” Ann said.

Anne sighed. “Okay.”

They cleaned up together, and then went into the living room. Anne settled on the couch with her feet up on the coffee table. 

Ann curled up against her side. 

Anne turned on the TV. “It’s like 6:30.” 

They loved to take walks in Ann’s gardens at dusk, to kiss when the lightning bugs were about, when the frogs and crickets started their serenade. 

Ann took her hand. “We’ll get through this one night, and everything will be better tomorrow.”

“Sounds like you’ve said that before,” Anne said.

“Yes.”

Anne brought their clasped hands up and kissed Ann’s fingers. She wasn’t paying attention to the Netflix welcome screen.

Anne’s phone rang. Sam Washington’s name came up.

Anne disentangled herself. “I should get that.” She grabbed the phone. “Sam?”

“Hi, Anne. Can I come over?”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Are you at the farm?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in about 30 minutes.”

“See you then.”

Anne hung up. “That’s weird.”

Ann got up. “I’ll make sure we have iced tea.”

“I’m sure he’s not coming for tea.”

***

Sam sat down in the easy chair across from the couch. He looked wary. He had accepted tea, and drank it.

“Is this a work matter?” Ann asked, hovering.

“Yes, but I think you should hear it,” Sam said.

Ann sat next to Anne, pressing her thigh.

Sam sighed. “Your name was in the papers, Anne, as the injured agent.”

“My name’s been in the papers before,” Anne said.

“But we’re afraid Cindy Lewis’s boyfriend, Victor Hass, who’s in the wind, will come after you. Whether he knows about the circumstances of her death or not, you’re the face of the FBI down in these parts.”

Ann put her hand on Anne’s knee. 

Anne frowned. “What about Ann?”

“Probably doesn’t know about Ann. Ya’ll haven’t taken out a billboard or anything.”

“Still,” Anne said.

Sam said, “We’ll either catch him in a few days or he’ll go across the border. You just have to lie low until then. We can’t afford to surveil your apartment or anything.”

“I’ve been thinking about going to Atlanta, looking into Deanna’s case,” Anne said.

Sam nodded. “You should. Those cops haven’t done anything. They figure they’ve got their man.” He stood up. “I should go. I just wanted to warn you.”

Anne shook his hand, from the couch.

Ann walked him to the door.

Anne lay back against the couch and closed her eyes. This would not do.

The cushion beneath her sank, and Ann cupped her face. 

“Would you come with me to Atlanta?” Anne asked. 

Ann brushed her cheeks with her thumbs. “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

“All right.” Anne kept her eyes closed.

Ann’s mouth brushed hers.

Anne turned, drawing Ann into her arms. Ann kissed her more soundly. It was an onslaught. Ann’s tongue captured hers. Her lips were warm. Anne gave herself over to Ann. Each kiss promised love. Tenderness. Happiness.

Anne opened her eyes. Ann was watching her between kisses. Ann grinned and brushed Anne’s nose with hers. “Have I brought you back to life?”

“A bit.” Anne kissed her. “This was bad news.”

Ann put her head on Anne’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” Anne said. 

“I know,” Ann said, with worried eyes.

Anne turned the TV back on. They barely watched it, instead trading kisses and caresses, staying close.

They went to bed early. Anne changed into a Harvard tee shirt and shorts.

Ann had opted for a sexy, tempting satin nightgown, which Anne thought unfair.

“You didn’t go to Harvard,” Ann said.

“I know, but doesn’t this shirt make me look like an intellectual?”

Ann shook her head, but opened her arms.

Anne got into bed. Ann wrapped around her like an octopus.

“I should be holding you,” Anne said. “I know you’re worried about Victor.”

“Nope. You’re healing. I’ve got you.”

Anne pursed her lips, but settled onto her favored side, with Ann tracing patterns on her back.

Charlie bounded up, behind Ann, making the bed shake.

“Ann, have you ever considered separate rooms?”

“Not happening,” Ann said.

Anne smiled and closed her eyes.

***

Something wet and soft nosed Anne’s neck.

“Gah, Charlie, get off,” Anne said, waking up. It was already light outside. She frowned. She never woke up when it was light.

Ann squirmed next to her. “Good morning.”

“Hi,” Anne said. She managed to pull the covers between her neck and Charlie, though he persisted. “I think he wants breakfast.”

Ann chuckled. She slipped her arm around Anne’s torso. “I love waking up with you. I never get to.”

“Yeah?” Anne asked.

“Makes me feel safe. Cozy…” Ann drifted off.

Anne looked from Charlie to Ann, wondering who would win the contest for Anne’s attentions.

Ann’s chin popped up. “How’s your head?”

“Better. Much better. I can think.”

Ann squeezed her, and then sat up. “I’m still going to make you coffee.”

Anne smiled.

Ann bent down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll deal with Charlie, too. Don’t come down until you smell coffee brewing.”

“Okay, Ann,” Anne said.

Ann slipped out of bed. Anne watched her go. Then lay back on the bed and smiled at the ceiling.

She didn’t go back to sleep, too enamoured by thinking; trying to remember old bits of poetry, quadratic equations. 

She smelled coffee. She got up, deciding to go down in her sleeping clothes, since Ann had. In the kitchen, she found coffee, yogurt, granola, and fruit. And Ann standing at the sink, looking through the kitchen window where the dogs were.

Anne came up behind Ann and slipped her arms around Ann’s waist. “Thank you for making coffee.”

Ann leaned back against her. “You’re welcome.”

Anne smoothed her hands down Ann’s satin-shrouded hips, pressing herself to Ann’s rump. She kissed Ann’s neck.

“Mm.” 

Ann turned around to kiss Anne’s lips. That gave Anne access to Ann’s breasts, which she skimmed, before settling on Ann’s hips again. She pressed Ann against the sink. Warm, awake, clear. Ann gazing at her with adoration, peppering kisses along her jaw.

“Where can we--” Anne surveyed the kitchen. She didn’t want to limp back upstairs. The pain lingered as it was, without further straining the torn muscle. 

Ann cupped Anne’s ass and kissed her hard, urging her toward decisions.

“Ah.” Anne stepped back, taking Ann’s hand, and leading her into the living room. 

Ann sat on the couch, and Anne put a pillow on the floor and knelt on it, between Ann’s legs.

Ann caressed Anne’s cheek. “You’re having a good morning.”

Anne kissed Ann’s palm. Here in the morning sunlight, she was excited. Energetic for the first time in days. In love with Ann. She pushed Ann’s nightgown up past her knees. Ann made no pretense of protesting, and kept her hands on Anne’s face, her hair, her neck.

“I want to go to Atlanta with you,” Ann said.

Anne smiled. 

“There’s something I have to tell you first,” Ann said.

“Is it urgent?” Anne traced circles on Ann’s inner thighs.

“Nope.”

Anne lifted up to kiss Ann’s mouth as she slid her hand over Ann’s center. Ann’s welcoming wet heat soothed her, righted her. 

Ann gasped. She pulled Anne’s hair, holding her to the kiss, as Anne’s hand moved.

“Anne,” Ann mumbled. She kissed Anne’s cheek, and then her forehead.

Anne sank back down on the pillow and urged Ann’s thighs apart. Ann sat back against the couch. She breathed heavy, loud.

Anne kissed her just below her belly button, and then moved lower, until her lips touched the sweet wetness. Her tongue traced a path along Ann, tasting musky sweat. She inhaled deeply, wanting to memorize Ann in this moment. And her own feeling of desire and love. She stroked Ann tenderly, wanting to take her time, to savor the morning as she was savoring Ann.

Ann’s panting, though, was urgent. Ann’s fingers massaged Anne’s scalp. “More,” she pleaded.

Anne shifted forward, pressing her tongue firmly. Ann’s hips rolled against her.

“God, Anne,” Ann said. “You’re… oh… right there. Anne, please.”

Anne held onto Ann’s hips. Ann ground against her face, breathing rapidly. Her hands loosened in Anne’s hair. She stretched and stilled as she came. And groaned, long and guttural. Her breaths became deep and gulping. 

Anne nuzzled Ann’s thigh, content to stay near her. Ann cupped her cheek. “Kiss me.”

Anne rose and kissed her, and then patiently let Ann lick and nuzzle her way across Anne’s cheeks, tasting herself on Anne’s skin.

“What did you want to tell me,” Anne murmured.

“Oh,” Ann said, smoothing her nightgown. “After breakfast. When we’re dressed.”

“Okay.”

***

When they were dressed, and back in the living room, and Anne was about to read the paper for the first time in days, Ann whistled for Charlie.

He came bounding into the house. Buddy and Lorenzo followed more sedately.

Ann went to the hall closet. She pulled out a harness with a cloth flag on it. “Uh.” For some reason she’d turned red. “Charlie is a service dog.”

“Charlie?” Anne asked skeptically. 

Charlie thumped his tail on the floor.

“Yeah. He was, uh, very expensive. Elizabeth made me get him when I moved down here, since I’d be all alone. She was concerned. My psychiatrist handled a lot of it.”

“Okay,” Anne said. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It hasn’t come up. I haven’t really...needed him. But I’d like to take him to Atlanta.”

“All right.”

Ann put the harness away, and then went to pet Charlie’s head. “I’m embarrassed to be seen with him. Like that. People will think I’m mental. Or… deficient.”

“I won’t,” Anne said.

“I know,” Ann said, in a way that made Anne think she didn’t know. 

“Everyone will be jealous of me,” Anne said. “When they see how beautiful you are.”

Ann pursed her lips, grinning a little. She came and sat next to Anne on the couch. 

Anne tried to be casual. “What’s he for?”

“PTSD. And anxiety.” Ann wrung her hands.

Anne surveyed the dogs. “And Lorenzo and Buddy?”

“Oh, they’re just farm dogs. You know.”

Anne’s brow furrowed. “I’m not from a farm. How does that work?”

Ann frowned. “People dumped them here.”

Anne’s chest constricted. She patted her knee for Buddy, who came over eagerly to her. “I’m sorry, Buddy,” she said.

“Welcome to the country.”

Anne held up her tablet. “I’m going to read the paper. I guarantee you city life is going to have a lot of problems, too.”

“Probably.” Ann put her feet on the coffee table.

“So we’re going to Coca Cola, right? And CNN?”

“I may rescind my agreement,” Ann said.

“Fine. But the botanical gardens, at least.”

Ann smiled. “All the gardens. Let’s see how they live up to mine.”

“Solid plan.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlanta.

“So completely, when our footsteps sound amid these monuments of past ages, does the present die within us; so mean, fleeting, and unimportant seem our daily occupations, that we begin to doubt, in this pitch of fancy, if they, whose everlasting rest is set up beneath these venerable rooffs, enjoy not a destiny at once more glorious and enviable than such of their breathing fellow-mortals as still toil in the day-light of vice, vanity, and sorrow.” - Travels in France in 1818, Francis Hill, read by Anne Lister in 1819

They got Charlie settled into the backseat of the Prius at 7:30 in the morning. The vet had given him some anti-nausea medication, though he was used to car rides. Seven hours would push anyone to the brink.

Ann programmed the GPS. “You know, this is a long way. Don’t killers have, like, smaller hunting grounds?”

“It does seem inconvenient.” Anne reached for the radio.

Ann stopped her. “I brought podcasts.”

“Podcasts?”

“Yeah. ‘My Favorite Murder,’ ‘Dirty John’--”

“Stop,” Anne pleaded.

“‘S-Town’? ‘Serial’?”

“Please no true crime, my love.”

“I’m just kidding.” Ann grinned. “I’ve got nothing but comedy podcasts.”

“That’s better.” Anne patted Ann’s thigh.

“But not if you’re patronizing.”

Anne grimaced. “I’ll shut up about the audio.”

“Excellent.”

“For an hour, at least.”

Ann pushed play.

***

Anne dropped Ann off at the hotel at three, to get settled with Charlie. Then she drove to the downtown police station, where the case files were kept.

She had an appointment at four, and was meeting Elena Felton, an Atlanta FBI agent, to make it slightly more official. Since Anne wasn’t working, she needed someone for the evidence chain in case they were ever going to present evidence.

She wasn’t hopeful.

Elena met her outside. “I just got here myself. Whose idea was it to put the FBI and the police at opposite ends of the city?”

Anne shook her hand, grateful that she and the police shared their little parking lot in Greenville.

Elena led her inside. “I know we haven’t met, but I know your reputation. Impressive. Sometimes I wish I had that much freedom, instead of being a cog in a wheel.”

“It’s a trade-off,” Anne said, limping alongside. “Being in a big city again is… rather wonderful.”

Elena smiled. “Welcome, then. The evidence is ready to sign out. The detective who gathered it declined to meet us.”

Anne shrugged. “It’s a closed case, I don’t blame them.”

Elena nodded. “Nice cane, by the way. You all right?”

“I’m not the person you want by your side in a drug raid, apparently,” Anne said. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They found the vast evidence room, looking like something out of _Raiders of the Lost Ark_. The box was waiting for them with the clerk, and Elena and Anne took it to a private room. They put on gloves.

Anne opened the top eagerly.

“So, you’re on leave, and yet you manage to keep an open case file on two murders that have already been solved.”

“I have help,” Anne said, chuckling.

“Well, if you convince me, you might have more.”

“You have an open mind?”

“I always try.”

The box had the case report, which Anne had already seen. Sapphire Gonning, 15. A big girl. Someone who could have fought back. 

Besides the file, there were some clothes, some fingerprint cards, and a stack of mail.

“No computer,” Anne said.

“He just had a smartphone. Nothing on it. Not even pictures of his grandchildren. They gave it back to the family.”

“And no autopsy,” Anne said.

“Well, they kind of knew what killed her, I guess.” 

“Mm.” Anne picked up the stack of mail. “They’ll throw anything into an evidence bag, won’t they?”

“I think they were trying to look busy,” Elena said.

Anne flipped through it. Bills, a fishing magazine, and a personal letter addressed to Greg Gonning. “Can you open this?”

Elena got a knife and slid it along the edge, then unfolded the envelope. She handed the letter inside to Anne.

“Brother Greg,” Anne read aloud. “You have served the Lord your God. You have protected the little children. As it is said, when the LORD thy God shall deliver them before thee; thou shalt smite them, utterly destroy them; thou shalt make no covenant with them, nor show mercy unto them.”

“Jesus. That sounds like an interested third party, all right,” Elena said.

“And it has details about the crime. ‘If a man has committed a sin worthy of death and he is put to death, and you hang him on a tree.’” Anne handed the letter back to Elena.

“I’ll get it fingerprinted. And get forensics on the sender and the stamp. Let’s go find whoever’s in charge and tell them this is officially an FBI case,” Elena said.

“Agreed,” Anne said, and sighed. She had expected vindication, but there was now a weight on her chest.

***

Anne came into the hotel room at 6:00. Ann sat on the bed, cross-legged, not really looking at anything. Teary. She glanced at Anne.

Anne felt a twist of resentment, and then regret. “Hey,” she said.

“Hi.” Ann got off the bed and hugged her. “I was waiting for you.”

“Were you. How was your day?” Anne was noncommittal with the hug, trying to assess the situation.

“Oh.” Ann sat back on the bed. “I tried to go out. Take a walk with Charlie. But it was too overwhelming—the traffic, the buildings. The people.” She sighed. “I feel worthless. Hopeless.”

Anne stayed by the door. She’d been stressed, and looking forward to telling Ann about the case. But Ann clearly wasn’t in the mood for murder. Anne went to the desk and set down her briefcase.

“I’m sorry,” Ann said. “I’m here in this big beautiful fucking city, I have so much money, and I have this pointless existence.”

Anne came and took Ann’s chin in her hand. “You save children’s lives. That matters.”

Ann sighed and looked away. “I’m not really certain.”

“What. Do you want me to cheer you up? Is that it?” Anne’s voice got louder. She chastised herself. 

Ann looked sharply at her, drawing away. “I don’t need you to cheer me up, Anne.”

“What, then?”

“What nothing. Just let me be.” Ann inhaled, and brushed at her eyes. “I’m not trying to be dramatic. I’m just telling you how I feel.”

“I know,” Anne said.

“How do you feel?” Ann asked.

“Frustrated.”

“Well, I can’t help you and you can’t help me,” Ann said.

Anne picked up a book from the dresser and went to the door. “I’ll be downstairs in the bar.”

***

“Double Crown and ice,” Anne said, sitting down at the expansive bar in Sway. No airport hotel, this Hyatt.

The bartender, a Latino chap with “Alex” on his nametag, nodded.

She glanced at the bar tv. Sports. It took her a minute to focus. Baseball. Braves. Of course. She shook her head.

Clarity after her concussion had not brought peace. The deaths of Deanna and Sapphire weighed on her. 

Alex put the drink in front of her. “Food?”

“No.”

“You should eat in Polaris, anyway. Way better.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Alex,” she said, a bit pointed.

He shrugged and went back to drying glasses.

She tried to follow the game. Somehow she’d forgotten everything she ever knew about baseball. She drank, finding the liquor too sweet for her frame of mind. It should have burned. Scotch, next time, to make more of an ass of herself.

She flipped listlessly through the feeds on her phone. 

Ann appeared next to her. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Anne said, wondering whether to smile.

Ann picked up her glass of Crown and took a sip, and grimaced. She put the glass back down.

Alex appeared.

“Something blue with rum,” Ann said. She settled into the seat next to Anne’s.

“Are you going to tell me not to drink on antibiotics?” Anne asked.

“You’re an adult. You have agency.”

“So do you,” Anne said.

Ann nodded. She frowned at the television.

A pitcher pitched a strike out. 

Anne took a sip, and sighed. “My leg really hurts.”

“What?” Ann shifted, facing her.

“It really hurts. Almost non-stop. Every time I walk. Every step. I don’t think it’ll ever get better.”

“Anne. Have you been taking anything?”

“No. Opioids? No.” 

“Ibuprofen?”

Anne shook her head. “I’m afraid that if it stops hurting, I’ll think I’m fine, and then it will come back again, and it’ll just have been a lie, and I’ll have had hope, and lose focus. I don’t want to lose focus.”

Ann put her hand on Anne’s leg. 

A blue drink in a martini glass with cherries and orange slices speared and laid across the top appeared.

“At least you got hurt doing something important. My life is such bullshit,” Ann said. She lifted her glass, and looked at Anne.

Anne picked up her own, and clinked. 

“I hate everything,” they both said at the same time.

Ann giggled.

Anne took another drink. 

They sat together, quietly, and Anne got out her book. 

Ann peered at it. “Ovid? I would expect you to read it in Latin.”

“I have. I mean, I can. But.” Anne’s cheeks colored. “I wanted to find some passages to read to you. In English.”

Ann smiled and settled back with her drink.

Anne read.

Ann called over Alex and had him put on _The Real Housewives of Atlanta._

Anne looked up from her book. “Why do you like these shows?”

“Because they show my lives I’ll never lead. Windows into a world I don’t ever get to visit.”

“I see,” Anne said. Then, “I love you.” 

Ann kissed Anne’s temple. “I never doubt it.”

***

They ate late, upstairs at Polaris, with views of the city and an acceptable wine list. Then Anne walked Charlie while Ann showered. 

Anne showered next, letting Ann handle whatever ‘surprise’ she had prepared. They locked Charlie out of the suite’s bedroom.

“Don’t put on any clothes,” Ann had told her. 

Anne complied, but coming out of the bedroom, hair blown dry, a naked Athena, she felt bone tired.

“Tired?” Ann asked. She was wearing pale peach satin pajamas, and had turned down the bed.

“Exceedingly.”

“I can’t imagine why. Did you not sleep for five hours in the car like I did?” Ann asked.

“I’ll have to try that next time.”

Ann gestured to the bed. “Lie on your back.” 

Anne got into bed, her head and shoulders propped up on pillows.

“I wanted to return the favor with the lube. But I got distracted by massage oil.” Ann gestured to a bowl on the bedside table.

“That sounds divine,” Anne said.

Ann dipped her fingers in oil. “You can get anything off the internet. This is apricot.”

Anne stretched. The weight of the day lightened a little off her chest. 

Ann started above her breasts, rubbing in the oil, warm, with both hands, sliding up over her shoulders and working them gently. More of a rub than a massage, but soothing nonetheless. The oil smelled good. And felt good.

Anne closed her eyes.

Ann worked her way down Anne’s stomach and over her hips. She touched Anne’s injured leg. “Is this going to hurt?”

“Try,” Anne murmured. 

Ann stroked her thigh, and then her knee, and finally her calf. Pain radiated, angry, where Ann’s fingers touched. Then when Ann’s fingers moved on, an itching, prickling sensation was left behind.

“It’s too much,” Anne said.

“Okay.” Ann moved on to her other leg, which welcomed Ann’s hands.

Anne relaxed into the pillows. Her body felt warm. Ann took Anne’s hand in hers and worked oil into her skin.

Anne drifted off.

***

Anne woke up. Her stomach was upset from such a late, rich dinner. She groaned and reached for her phone. One a.m. She didn’t feel sticky, and she’d been covered by the sheets. The room was dark. Charlie lay by her feet.

Ann snored softly beside her.

“Ann?”

“Mm.” Ann turned, putting her hand on Anne’s abdomen. 

“Are you awake?”

“I wasn’t. Am now.” Ann said, opening her eyes. 

“Did I fall asleep during sex?” Anne asked.

Ann chuckled, tickling Anne’s stomach. “Sex is quite the overstatement. You were relaxed.”

Anne felt like liquid. She propped herself up a bit, to ease her stomach. 

“We’re not going home, are we?” Ann asked.

“No. Tomorrow is vacation. We could sit by the pool all day. Or--”

“See the gardens,” Ann said.

“Yeah.” 

Ann was silent, and presently renewed her snoring.

Anne curled on her side and closed her eyes, content, wanting to be nowhere else.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann's day in Atlanta. NSFW.

_The smell of your neck in August  
__a fine gold wire bejeweling war  
__all the rest lies  
__illusive as a farmhouse_  
_on the other side of a valley  
__vanishing in the afternoon_.

  * Audre Lorde



Ann stood next to Anne, looking up at a giant topiary dragon. Charlie sat dutifully next to Ann, in his “Working: Do Not Pet” harness.

“Are you getting ideas?” Anne asked.

“No. This place is… for children,” Ann said. She was dismayed. She’d pictured—desired—the walled gardens of her childhood imagination, of long lost England, of _The Secret Garden_ , which had enchanted her as a child and as an adult. Now she faced a dragon. Incongruent.

“Mm,” Anne said, sounding noncommittal. 

“We could have just gone to the zoo,” Ann said.

“They have a panda.”

Anne always had a line. 

Ann walked to her left, to consider the dragon from another angle. “I think if we had something like this, we’d have to have a bigger house to match it.”

Anne made an odd face, and then smiled. She said, “Maybe just a baby dragon. Like on _Game of Thrones_.”

“Dracarys,” Ann said, proud of her reference. She still wasn’t going to get a dragon, though.

Anne offered her hand. “Let’s find some flowers.”

Ann took her hand. “Lead on, Baron.”

Anne rolled her eyes.

Ann, happily, intertwined their fingers.

They found a field of daisies, and other late-summer flowers Ann knew nothing about. She felt herself relaxing. The morning sun was warming. The first hints of sweat appeared on the back of her neck, under her pinned-up hair. 

Anne’s phone buzzed. She let go of Ann’s hand to answer it. “Hey, Elena.” A pause. “Oh really? Sure, I’ll head over.” She hung up and looked apologetically at Ann. “Test results are back on some of our evidence. I have to be there in person, since I don’t have access to my work email.”

A shiver of trepidation went through Ann, but she smiled brightly. “I understand. Go.”

“I’ll drop you and Charlie off at the hotel.”

“No, I think we’ll stay out.” 

“Okay.” Anne glanced around the gardens, then stepped close to Ann. “I’ll see you later.”

“Not if I see you first.”

Anne kissed her, and squeezed her shoulder. “Bye.”

Anne walked off, somehow confidently striding even with a pronounced limp.

Charlie looked up at Ann. 

“It’s just you and me,” Ann said.

Ann lingered in the gardens. She made a meek attempt to Google the flowers she saw—some of them had plaques—but gave up. Unlike the day before’s disaster, she felt perfectly safe. Calm. Charlie, too, seemed to be having a good time.

Without Anne, though, she was lonely. She longed to have a conversation with someone new. Someone outside her small circle of friends—acquaintances. She couldn’t rely on Anne as her only link to the outside world. As the days in Atlanta exhibited, that was a tenuous promise.

She made a resolution. She would have one conversation with someone new. But not here in the gardens—it was getting too hot. 

“Ready to find something indoors, Charlie?” She asked.

Charlie surveyed their path.

***

They ended up at Einstein’s for lunch, which was a very nice squash ravioli and a glass of wine, but no conversation. 

Then she and Charlie walked a long way to the public library. She texted Catherine, answered some emails, felt restless and a little listless. At the library, children eyed Charlie with delight, but were pulled away by their parents reading Charlie’s sign. Charlie paid them no mind.

Despite the heat, she went outside to a bench next to the library, and poured Charlie some water in a dish she carried with her. He drank it rapidly. On a whim, she took off his harness and tucked it into a bag.

Girl and dog. Park bench. Atlanta. No summer flowers. Just pale green grass and pavement. 

She thought about Anne. Anne’s hands. Anne’s wit. The slope of her nose. The piercingness of her eyes when she gave her total attention to Ann. It took her breath away. She had not realized someone like Anne could exist. Now she was addicted.

A woman with a boy, perhaps Phillip’s age, walked toward them, following the path.

“He’s not wearing the harness,” the woman said hesitantly, keeping a grip on her child’s shoulder.

“He’s off-duty,” Ann confirmed. “Do you want to pet him?”

The boy gazed up at the woman.

“Go ahead,” she said.

He approached hesitantly, hand outstretched. Charlie patiently watched him. The hand landed on Charlie’s neck. And stroked. 

“Charlie likes it,” Ann said.

The boy smiled.

“What’s your name?” Ann asked. She was used to dealing with children, and not used to dealing with their parents, who were usually out of the picture. Otherwise she wouldn’t have a job.

“Caleb,” he said.

“I’m Ann. He’s Charlie.”

“I’m Lucia.” The woman offered her hand to Ann.

Ann shook it. “Is he yours?”

“Yes. My son.” 

Ann nodded. 

“Do you have children?” Lucia asked.

“I foster children.”

“Wow. That’s a big job.”

“But very rewarding,” Ann said. “Caleb reminds me of a boy I got to spend time with recently.”

They watched him braid Charlie’s shoulder hairs.

“I take it you live in Atlanta?” Ann asked.

“Yes.” Seeing the child wasn’t moving on, Lucia sat next to Ann on the bench. “You? I haven’t seen you at the library before. I’d remember Charlie.”

“No. Just visiting from Eastern Carolina. My partner’s working.”

“What do—they do?” 

“She’s in law enforcement.”

Charlie put his head on Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb expended some effort holding him up.

“So you’re having more fun,” Lucia said.

Ann chuckled. “I am now.”

***

Ann slowly came to awareness. She was on her side on the bed. Anne stretched out beside her, reading a paperback. 

Ann yawned. “What are you reading?”

Anne beamed at her. “Still Ovid. I’m beginning to think he’s a bit of a cad. How was your day?”

“Wonderful.” Ann slithered to sit next to Anne against the headboard. “Charlie and I stayed out for a while. We made friends.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Anne said. She put down her book and took Ann’s hand. 

“Yours? Your day, I mean?” Ann asked.

“Good. We had a breakthrough in the case. I’ll tell you about it at dinner. But it was a lot of tedious reading. And science. Lab reports and such.”

“But reading is your favorite thing.”

“Not when I’m trapped in a stuffy little room, forced to memorize everything because I can’t scan it, photocopy it, email it… It was a chore.” 

“How’s your head?”

“None the worse for it,” Anne said.

Ann got on her knees, facing Anne. She kissed Anne, slowly, searchingly. The sleep was fading, replaced by the feeling of being with Anne. Anne’s hands smoothed her sides, pressed her hips. Ann sighed. 

She needed Anne. Wanted Anne, at all times. Anne’s teeth grazing her lower lip. Anne’s hand finding her ass. The desire within Ann, sometimes dormant, was now ready to erupt onto the surface. It was always quick. Her plans to seduce and savor Anne usually went awry. 

Anne wore her dress shirt, silk with onyx buttons. She’d shed her suit jacket and shoes, but still had on trousers. Ann kissed Anne’s neck. “I need you, Anne.”

Anne brought her closer, moved her hand under Ann’s shirt. 

It wasn’t enough. “I need you inside me.”

Anne’s eyes widened. She said nothing, but twisted, holding Ann, until Ann was spread under her on the bed.

Ann gazed into Anne’s face. She traced the strong jaw, brushed the furrowed brow. Tugged gently on the dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “Anne.”

Anne pushed her shirt up and kissed her stomach. Then unzipped her jeans. It was a struggle to remove them, both pushing, but the demin finally freed her legs and fell to the floor. Panties quickly followed. Ann didn’t care how wet they were. She didn’t care that Anne could see the most intimate parts of her. The parts no one else had ever seen.

Anne settled along Ann’s side, one leg between Ann’s. 

“Ann,” Anne purred into her ear as her hand settled just above where Ann needed it.

Ann turned her head, captured Anne’s lips. Pursued her when Anne retreated. Succumbed when Anne finally kissed her back with intent and power. Ann gripped Anne’s shoulder, the one connected to the hand that hovered above her center. 

“Take me,” Ann begged.

Anne entered her without preamble, strongly, with long fingers that curled as they stroked. 

Ann fell back onto the bed and Anne followed, covering her, thrusting roughly, fully, sending lightning through her. Ann gasped. Her toes curled. She clung to Anne’s shoulders as Anne moved. Always too quick.

“Anne,” she choked.

Anne penetrated her with deliberation. Ann raised her knees, widened them, thrust up to meet Anne’s fingers. She was burning. Sweat gathered between them. 

“Anne,” she called, as Anne’s eyes closed in concentration.

Anne opened her eyes. 

“I want you to watch me,” Ann said. “Watch me come apart.”

Anne licked her lips. She was still fully clothed. Radiant. Her gaze stayed on Ann’s face. Ann could almost see her reflection, and past it, into Anne, who knew exactly what she liked, when she needed tenderness and when she needed to be torn to pieces. 

“I love you,” Ann said.

Anne grinned. She pushed inside Ann, and her thumb found Ann’s clit, bringing her relief in the form of combustion. Ann arched. 

“I love you, too,” Anne said, as Ann came. She shuddered, clenching hard around Anne.

“Beautiful,” Anne whispered, her gaze dutifully on Ann’s face.

Ann cupped Anne’s cheek. “I can never resist you.”

Anne’s expression became smug. 

Ann laughed. She pulled Anne into a full-bodied hug, uncaring that Anne’s clothes would wrinkle, smear. 

Anne kissed her temple.

“Dinner?” Ann asked.

“What?”

“Where are we going for dinner?”

Anne struggled into a sitting position, disheveled. “Are you telling me, Ann Walker, that I am going to spend hours turned on, unable to touch you, pretending sanity?”

“That’s how I spend a lot of my days.” Ann propped herself up on her elbows. “It seems only fair.”

“Devilish.” Anne smirked.

“Mm. I have plans that wouldn’t be suitable before dinner.”

“Plans.” 

“Yes.”

“Well, you’d better not be wrong about my willpower,” Anne said.

“Oh? And what if I am? What if you just can’t take it anymore?”

“We may end up fucking in a restaurant bathroom.”

“You’d better take me to a place with a really nice bathroom, then,” Ann said. 

Anne swatted her thigh. “Well. Let’s get changed. It would be a shame to miss our reservations.”

***

They had a leisurely dinner outside at Ecco, feeding each other bits of charcuterie, drinking wine that cost as much as their dinner. 

Anne told her about the case. “We got a fingerprint off the letter. And it popped to a man in South Carolina. He’d had his fingerprints scanned for a federal gun permit.”

Ann giggled.

Anne raised her eyebrows, and ate a bite of her steak.

“Popped. So. What’s next? Do you arrest him?”

“Not quite yet. But we’ll…” Anne glanced around and leaned in conspiratorially. “Be stealing more of his mail.”

“Investigative work is so thrilling,” Ann said.

“The thrill will be seeing this man in prison for what he’s done.”

“What has he done?”

Anne raised her fork. “Ahh.” She acknowledged. “We’ll find something.”

“When you’re back on duty?”

Anne’s face fell. “Mm.”

“Sorry,” Ann said. She reached for Anne’s hand, feeling selfish. She loved having Anne to herself, having Anne safe, and near. Going back to seeing Anne twice a week was unappealing. 

Anne squeezed her fingers. “You’ll have another couple weeks of me. Then you’ll boot me back to my office.”

Ann smiled. “I can’t imagine.”

“How much more torture must I take? If you could only feel what you do to me, Ann.”

“Dessert?” Ann asked, just to see Anne’s face crumple. Then she added, “To go?”

“Tiramisu?” 

“Lovely.”

***

They put Charlie in the main room and went to the bedroom. They pulled down the sheets and kicked off their shoes before eating cake in bed, laughing at each other. 

“I’m not complaining,” Ann said, “But this would have gone better with coffee.”

“Are you blaming me for being in a rush?” Anne asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m only saying.” Ann tried batting her eyelashes. How did people do it?

Anne took the plate and set it behind her on the bedside table. 

Ann stood up. She pulled off her top and draped it on a chair. Then unhooked her bra, glad to be dexterous with Anne’s intent gaze on her. When she unzipped her pants, Anne came to sit on the edge of the bed, close enough to touch her, but just watching.

Ann stepped out of her clothes and stood before Anne. She felt powerful. She’d never had power before, not with her parents, or in college, and barely with Elizabeth. Elizabeth negotiated, but unfairly. Here was Anne, sitting patiently, letting Ann take the lead. It was a beautiful and fragile feeling. Ann cupped Anne’s face and kissed the top of her head.

“Ann,” Anne said. She took Ann’s hand, pulling it between her legs. Heat surrounded Ann’s fingers. “This is what you do to me.”

Ann smiled and began unbuttoning Anne’s blouse. She took her time with every button, mindful of the shirt she’d wrinkled earlier. Anne sat like a statue, but the sensation of heat lingered in Ann’s hand. She wanted more.

She pushed the shirt off Anne’s shoulders. Anne let her take it and fold it, but took off her own bra. Cracks in her patience showed.

“Anne,” Ann said, kneeling in front of Anne. “I want to know everything about you.”

“You can,” Anne said. She hissed as Ann undid her pants. She lifted her hips for Ann to slide down the fabric. 

Ann got up and put the pants on the chair. She turned to regard Anne.

Anne smiled, her lip curled around her teeth. She was just as impressive a presence naked as she was in a suit. So much Anne to contend with. Ann knelt in front of her again.

“I may have to implement my plan in two parts.”

Anne said nothing. Her hips shifted as Ann pressed between them. Ann pressed her hand to Anne’s center again. This time, the heat was wet, coating her fingers. 

“You’ve been so strong,” Ann said.

Anne hissed. Ann slipped two fingers into her. Anne groaned. She put her hand on Ann’s shoulder. Every sound a symphony. She wanted to know the back of Anne’s elbow, the curve of her shoulder blade, as well as she knew this clutching tightness, this heat. But Anne needed her. 

“I’ve got you,” Ann said. As her fingers moved, she bowed her head. She found Anne’s clit with the first swipe of her tongue, the relief hers as much as Anne’s, who groaned again, squeezing her shoulder. 

Anne surrounded her. Covered her. Coated her skin and captured her fingers. Ann moved as if a part of Anne, entirely focused on her partner’s pleasure. She moved with Anne, whose grinding hips guided her. She wanted to look up, to watch Anne’s face, but she wanted to feel Anne more. Her mouth full of Anne, Anne full of her.

“Ann,” Anne keened. “Just like that. Just how I like it. God.”

Anne pushed herself up with her free arm, offering more of herself to Ann, all of herself.

Anne always came with purpose. The choice to let go, to give up her sentience to her lover, just for a moment. Ann tasted the quivering flesh, the vibrations, and felt Anne’s body float down to the sheets. 

_I did that_. Ann nuzzled Anne’s thigh, and then got up to implement part two of her plan.

“How’s your leg?” Ann asked.

“My what?”

“Your leg.” Ann said, picking up the apricot oil.

“Oh. It hurts. Remind me to take something before I go to bed.”

“Okay. Later.” Ann sat beside Anne’s hips. 

“Later?”

Ann smiled at Anne’s post-coital incoherence. “This will feel chilly. But I’ll warm it up.”

Anne glanced side-ways at her, but didn’t move. 

Ann poured oil onto her fingers, and then spread it across Anne’s stomach. Not a traditional place to start, but she had time. 

Anne shivered, closing her eyes as Ann’s hands moved on her. “I finally have you where I want you,” Ann said. 

“Mm.”

Ann worked her way up Anne’s chest, gathered more oil between her fingers, stroked her breasts. Anne’s breasts were soft and full. The nipples were responsive. Anne purred as Ann teased them. Then Ann moved on, to her collarbone, her neck, her shoulders. 

“Anne,” Ann said.

Anne’s eyes opened, found hers.

“Don’t go to sleep. Not this time.”

Anne seemed to shake herself. “All right.”

Ann leaned in and brushed her lips across Anne’s mouth, and then her cheek.

Then she moved down, starting with Anne’s calves and working her way back up. Anne squirmed when Ann touched her knee. “Ticklish?”

“I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me,” Anne said.

“I promise not to use my powers for evil,” Ann said.

Ann touched and stroked every inch of Anne. Anne lay stiller than Ann had ever seen her in bed. Taking the edge off had been worth it, to have this languid tiger under her control. She followed the contours of Anne’s muscles. She kissed Anne again. She slid her oil-coated fingers between Anne’s legs.

Anne bit her lip.

“What did you say? Friction is the enemy?” Ann found Anne slippery and open, eager for her touch.

“I may have imparted that,” Anne said, gritting her teeth.

“And also, I believe, something about stamina.”

“And it having its limits.” Anne thrust her hips to meet Ann’s strokes. 

“You’re beautiful like this. And you feel...indescribable.”

Anne’s gaze traveled over Ann’s body, and then back to her eyes. She said nothing, but jerked as Ann touched her. 

“I will never stop,” Ann said.

Anne breathed shallowly. 

Ann drew circles on her clit, and let Anne press against her, finding a rhythm. She wanted to kiss Anne but she didn’t want to lose focus. So she kept all of Anne in her sight. 

Anne’s gaze roved again, pausing on her breasts. 

“You like what you see,” Ann said. 

“Yes.”

“I like how you feel.” Ann pushed against Anne. The pace increased. 

Anne’s gaze was heavy-lidded. Her breaths came out as moans. The oil meant Ann’s hand could go anywhere, travel up and down Anne’s slit, teasing her opening and pressing hard against her. 

She loved Anne like this, caught on the precipice, under her power. Her skin glistened with oil. 

Anne reached for Ann’s wrist, held it against her. Stiffened, came. The orgasm was a rolling earthquake, leaving Anne sighing. Her body relaxed in stages. 

Ann kissed Anne, who wrapped her arms around Ann and brought her down to the bed. Anne kissed her again and again, exploring her mouth like everything was new. 

“Tomorrow,” Anne said between kisses.

“Yes?” Ann purred as Anne bit into her lower lip.

“We’re not leaving the hotel.”

“Perfect,” Ann said, as Anne rolled on top of her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last NSFW day in Atlanta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this hasn't been beta-read so I probably got the Ann(e)s all screwed up. If you're like me, you need a little break from the world right now. One last hurrah before the story goes back to plot and forward movement. Even if I have to spray Ann Walker with the garden hose.

_Surely, there was not a breath of air to spare – We had a full sun upon us during both days, and such heat I never felt in my life – I sat in a state of profuse perspiration. And all seemed half dissolved – I felt the perspiration trickling in big drops down my breast._ \- September 1, 1824, Anne Lister’s diary.

  


Anne awoke at dawn, the light reminding her that she was already behind schedule, that things were already afoot. She rolled onto her back. Ann, though unconscious, followed, pressing her forehead to Anne’s shoulder. 

Anne picked up her phone. The world had not ended while she slept. She had awoken alive, and sent a prayer of gratitude for that. For Ann, too, who was breathing easily in the morning. 

Then she ordered room service.

“Stop squirming,” Ann murmured.

“Shssh. Go back to sleep.”

“I think I’m adapting to your schedule.”

Anne glanced at the window and laughed.

Ann snuggled closer.

Anne self-inventoried. Sore, sweaty, and slightly oily. They’d have to leave the maid a big tip. She smirked. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arm around Ann’s shoulders. 

A knock on the door woke her up. “Room service.”

Anne got up and put on a bathrobe and went out into the main room. Charlie got to his feet. 

She let the man at the door set up breakfast at the table by the window, and tipped him, and fed and watered Charlie “Do you need to go out?”

He whined.

“Fine. Can’t I just let you out the back,” she grumbled. She threw on jeans and a polo shirt and sandals and took him out.

When she came back, Ann sat at the table by the window, staring at the coffee carafe. 

“Ann?”

“I’m trying to make the coffee pour with my mind,” Ann said, and yawned. 

“How long have you been trying?”

Ann rubbed her eyes. “Ten minutes? I heard you go out with Charlie.”

Anne sat at the table. “I ordered one of everything.”

“I can see that.”

“Two chocolate croissants though,” Anne said.

Ann nodded. She didn’t move her gaze from the carafe.

Anne poured her coffee and put a brown sugar cube into it.

“Thanks,” Ann said.

Anne sipped from an orange juice glass. “How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” Ann bit her lip for a moment. “Absolutely amazing. You?”

“Not bad.” Anne grinned at her over her glass.

Ann giggled. She took a bite of croissant.

Anne looked out the window at downtown Atlanta. Her pledge to stay in the hotel all day already had her restless. She was not good at vacation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had one longer than a night, seeing Marian or the beach for a few brief moments. 

Ann, fortified by coffee, picked up a yogurt and painstakingly added granola to it.

“I think I’ll spend the morning in the gym,” Anne said.

Ann’s gaze snapped to hers. “I’ll go.”

“I’ve never seen you work out,” Anne said.

“I want to watch you,” Ann said. Then she smiled a broad, sexy smile, a smile that lit up her eyes, eyes that took Anne’s form in.

Anne swallowed. 

“Will there be many...reps?” Ann asked.

“And grunting, surely,” Anne said.

“Do you have workout clothes?”

“I’ll buy some,” Anne said.

“Spandex?” 

Anne sighed. “Tight ones.” 

Ann licked yogurt off her spoon.

***

The weight room had several good machines, and Anne’s back yearned to be stretched, but given Ann’s attention on her, she decided to start with free weights, and settled on the bench with something light. It had been merely a week since she’d last worked out, but between the hospital and the case and the trip, it felt like an eternity. An eternity she could feel in her bones. 

She lifted the weight above her head.

Ann’s gaze traveled up her arm.

Anne sighed. She’d chosen a loose tank top that said “Atlanta, Y’all” in cursive on the front over a rather itchy sports bra, and men’s jogging pants. Nothing tight. Ann would just have to imagine.

From her expression, Ann was imagining already.

To further torture Anne, Ann had brought a fancy drink with an umbrella, and her iPhone. She had an Airpod in one ear.

Anne counted reps. 10. 20. She switched arms. “What are you listening to?”

“Oh, Homecoming. It’s a podcast.”

“Mm.”

“Do you know how to use those machines?”

Anne glanced over her shoulder. “Yes.” She switched to bicep curls.

“How marvelous.”

“What are you drinking?” Anne asked.

“Strawberry daiquiri.”

Anne was a little envious. She lay on the bench and began leg curls. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been truly objectified.”

“That must be nice,” Ann said, in a tone that made Anne feel a little bad. “What’s it like?” Ann followed up.

“I think if anyone else walked into the gym, I would die.”

Ann pursed her lips. “And I can’t even see your abs.”

“They’re not really—that’s just my stomach.”

“How long can you hold a plank?”

“Ann. This is distracting.”

“How long?”

“45 seconds. If I wanted to. 20, on a regular day. Just to feel strong.”

“You are very strong.”

Anne decided she was going to stop talking. She got up and began squats.

Ann watched her idly, occasionally sipping her drink, occasionally glancing at her phone. Anne dearly hoped she wasn’t filming. They hadn’t had the homemade sex tape talk. Maybe they should.

Lunges hurt her calf. The curls had probably been a bad idea. The squats had pushed it. She settled for upper body work, and tucked under the barbells after putting an easy-going fifty pounds on them.

“Can I spot you?” Ann asked.

“No, I’m fine. It’s not that heavy.”

Ann put her phone and drink down and walked over anyway, as Anne pushed up the weights. 

“You’re sweating,” Ann said.

Anne was doing more than sweating. The glistening on her skin did not approach the gathering between her legs, with Ann now dragging her finger down Anne’s chest. Anne had things to do. Workouts were important. Sex was not—

“You’re making a face,” Ann said.

“I’m trying to decide what I’m doing here when all I want to do is fuck you.”

Ann stroked her taut shoulder. “You’re trying to get your job back. You’re trying to stay strong to protect me. And everybody else.”

Anne swallowed. 

“I can’t apologize for being a tease when you’re on your back,” Ann said, leaning over to whisper it. 

Anne set the barbell and rolled into a sitting position. She pulled Ann onto her lap. 

“We could live off my money,” Ann said. “We could go to Russia.”

“Ann. I’m not going anywhere,” Anne said. She rubbed Ann’s back. “I’m right here.”

Ann, her lip wavering, kissed Anne’s neck. “You smell...intoxicating.”

“Do I.”

“Like you. But even more… you.” Ann cupped her breast. 

Anne pulled Ann closer against her. “Should we go upstairs?”

“Please.”

***

Ann stripped Anne as soon as they were in the bedroom. She pulled off her own clothes unceremoniously and left them on the floor. She pushed Anne back on the bed and kissed her. 

Anne held onto Ann’s waist. Ann’s mouth moved to her neck, letting Anne breathe. Ann, too, had not showered, and smelled like last night and strawberries. 

Ann licked her shoulder. It tickled. “Ann,” Anne said. She was restless underneath Ann’s weight.

Ann pushed into the crook of Anne’s arm, and then dragged her teeth across Anne’s bicep. 

Anne hadn’t known Ann to be this wild, though she was getting used to Ann’s forwardness. The unfamiliar sensation of objectification still prickled at her. Ann was using her to get off. Anne was turned on by that, in a different way than how she felt when enveloped by Ann’s tender affections. 

Ann buried her head between Ann’s breasts. Her explorations slowed, though her hips moved in an easy rhythm against Anne’s. Ann inhaled deeply, and then sighed.

“Ann?” 

Ann nuzzled her breast, and then said “Like I said, you’re intoxicating.”

“I know the feeling,” Anne said.

Ann moved lower, sliding herself down Anne’s thigh, leaving a hot, damp trail that made Anne groan. Ann knelt on the floor, kissing her way along Anne’s stomach.

Anne had not felt such constant desire since her teenage years. Though she had loved Mariana, craved Mariana, it had not consumed her with this need -- the need to be close to Ann, to take hold of Ann, to make love. The implications made her nervous, but the stroke of Ann’s tongue along her center jolted her out of any thoughts beyond the moment.

“God, Ann,” she murmured.

Ann took another long, leisurely lick. Then she tugged on Anne’s hand, until Anne met her gaze, and licked her lips.

Anne shivered.

“Everything is concentrated right here,” Ann said. “Your core.” She lowered her head again.

Anne gave herself over to Ann’s ministrations. Delicate, searching, tugging. Every touch stroked something deep inside her. The pleasure was intense, and she found herself clutching Ann’s hand, unanchored. She tensed.

“I love you like this,” Ann murmured. “So raw.”

Ann’s tongue tormented Anne, nerves stinging at the surface, depths aching for a firmer touch.

After long moments suspended in desire, punctuated by moans and gasps, Anne rocked her head back. “I’m not going to come unless you fuck me.”

Ann lifted her head, and let go of Anne’s fingers in order to stroke through her folds. “Do you want to come?”

Anne considered. 

Ann sucked at the skin of Anne’s inner thigh until it hurt.

“God,” Anne breathed. “Yes. I want to come.”

Ann entered her with two fingers and took Anne’s clit in her mouth again. 

The relief was instantaneous, and Anne arched, pushing herself against Ann, fulfilled. No longer caught on the precipice, she was rushing downhill, falling, ready to be caught by Ann. 

“Ann,” she gasped.

Ann stood, thrusting into Anne, replacing her tongue with her thumb.

Anne looked up at her, at her lips gleaming with Anne’s scent. They were ravenous for each other. Anne came, rocking with Ann, feeling the wave crash through her, shaking them both. 

“Ann,” Anne said, as her body relaxed.

Ann got on the bed, and then knelt over Anne, sitting just beyond her center. “Anne. Please. Take me like this. You taste so good. I want you all over me.”

Anne grabbed Ann’s hip, and then slipped her other hand between Ann’s legs, finding her wet and ready. She pushed two fingers into her.

Ann sighed, sinking down on Anne’s hand, and then rising up again. She had a faint smile on her face. 

Anne watched, enraptured, and thrust, as Ann did most of the work herself. Ann was always close, always ready. Anne knew it wouldn’t be long. Ann’s legs squeezed her hips. Ann touched her own clit, playing a light staccato rhythm. She clenched Anne’s fingers. Anne kept her balanced. 

Ann fell forward over Anne, kissing her mouth, and then whispering, “I’m so close, Anne. I want you so much.”

They moved together, as Ann alternated between hungry kisses and gasping breaths, until she shuddered against Anne, and cut short a groan with a choked mewl of pleasure. 

Anne stroked her until Ann’s twitching ceased, and then wrapped her arms around Ann’s back, holding her close.

Ann licked her ear. 

“Ann,” Anne said.

“How much are we leaving the maid?” Ann asked.

“At least a hundred bucks.”

Ann purred, and kissed Anne’s cheek, and then rolled onto her back.

“Shower?” Anne asked. 

“You first.” Ann stretched. 

Anne kissed Ann before getting up. “Be back soon.”

“On second thought, I’ll be right here.” Ann spread out her arms and legs. 

Anne swallowed.

***

They sat in shade by the pool. Anne was utterly relaxed and happy to have clean hair again.

Ann’s contentment seemed to border on drowsiness. 

So this is what it took to vacation. Endless, exhausting sex. Anne wished she’d known sooner. She smiled to herself.

“What are you thinking?” Ann asked.

“Planning our next vacation.”

“And where are we going?”

“Savannah?”

“Sounds good,” Ann said. 

Anne reached over and squeezed Ann’s hand.

Anne’s phone rang. She dug through her bag and pulled it out. “Sam,” she said to Ann, and then answered it. “Hi, Sam.”

“Hi, Anne. How’s Atlanta?”

“Hot,” she said.

“Here, too,” Sam said. “Look, we arrested Victor Hass. It’s safe to come home.”

Something tense inside Anne released. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll call you when we’re back in town.” 

“See you,” he said.

Anne hung up the phone. She glanced over at Ann, whose expression was wistful.

“Honeymoon over?” Ann asked.

“Afraid so. This doesn’t count, though.”

“Count?”

“As our honeymoon,” Anne said.

Ann grinned. 

Anne settled back on her lounger and closed her eyes. One more night of bliss before she was back in the swamp.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old books, new promises.

Anne gazed at the shelves of her library. The space, like her, felt forlorn. She picked out a book by Boswell, careful not to crack the spine to look at the yellowed pages within. She had missed her books, with their escapes to far away places, to far away languages. She’d missed the musty smell. But now she was among her prized possessions and she felt incomplete. 

Perhaps Ann would let her move a few books to the farmhouse. 

She didn’t want to ask too soon. They’d retreated back to their private spaces after getting back from Atlanta. The descent into reality was disconcerting. Anne didn’t know how to reset. 

She took Boswell to the window chair and sat down. She was still suspended, still with too much free time on her hands. She had a tan, but Ann felt far away. 

She had a feeling Boswell wouldn’t keep her interest. Dr. Johnson could be a bit of a blowhard.

***

Ann sprawled on the couch, under a blanket, with Alexa playing heavy metal.

James found her when he came to do yard work.

She smiled at him.

He came to the foot of the couch. “Are you all right, Ann?”

“I am fine.” She exhaled. “Crashing after Atlanta. It’s hard to come from such… a high… and it’s not like reality is bad, but it’s not the same feeling as being free and in love. It’s just… okay, here’s my stuff, here’s my yard, here’s my friend.”

James grinned. “It’s hard when you can’t have any of the good stuff.”

“I don’t know if I should… be scared of the experience. If it knocked me off kilter. If it’s somehow going somewhere I vowed never to go again.”

“With Anne?” James shook his head. “I don’t think she’s the road to crazytown.”

“Maybe not.”

“Where is she?” James glanced around.

“Doing the same thing I am. Processing and unwinding.”

“Or winding back up again, more like. Want me to get something from the freezer for your dinner tonight?”

“No, I’ll cook. I miss cooking. I think it’ll help.”

He nodded. “Well, I’ll be on the mower. Text if you want. But tonight I have a date.” He beamed.

“With Gillian?”

“Yup. We’re going to have the ‘Talk.’ Because you know, she’s… not like other girls. She’s something special.” His cheeks reddened.

“Yeah.” Ann smiled. “Don’t screw it up.”

“No ma’am.” He winked. 

***

Sunday found Anne at St. Peter, one of the Catholic churches in Greenville. Unlike most of the other churches, Jesus was physically in attendance, with statues and paintings. Mary, too. It was disconcerting, them watching her. But Anne dutifully sat in the pew and thought, and accepted a blessing when everyone else was having Communion. Anglican was just not Catholic enough. 

She had time, through the droning hymns, to contemplate a life without Ann. Unacceptable. There was a rock of conviction in her chest. Ann. _All the beautiful sounds of the world in a single word._

Then she thought of a life without the FBI. That was like being doused with icy water. Cold radiating through her torso, her limbs, her neck. The very fantasy frightened her. She pushed it away.

She didn’t talk to anyone as Mass ended, but went out into the sunlight and texted Ann.

***

The Sunday afternoon sunlight streamed through Ann’s windows, keeping Ann’s living room warm and bright.

Anne stood in the center, casting a shadow, while Ann moved around the kitchen.

“I could cook, you know,” Anne said.

“It’s just salad and salmon. And the dressing’s from a bottle. You can cook something more elaborate.”

“Okay.” Anne knew Ann liked lamb. She made a mental note.

“Ann?” Anne asked.

“Hm?” Ann dried her hands on a towel and came out into the living room.

“Would it be all right if I brought some books here? They’re… they’re like my stuffed animals.” Anne cleared her throat, raised her chin. 

Ann smiled. “Stay here.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. She had been standing there for a good ten minutes, she didn’t need to be told.

Ann disappeared into her own library, opposite the kitchen, under the stairs and out the other side to the south windows. 

Anne glanced around for the dogs. They weren’t in sight. 

Ann returned with a book wrapped in a white cotton cloth. “Here. I thought you could start your collection here with this book.”

Anne unwrapped the book. “ _Tableau statistique, politique et moral de système militaire de la Russie_ ,” she read.

Ann seemed chuffed. “See, it’s about Russia, but it’s in French. And it’s old and smells rather… pungent.”

Anne held the book in her right hand and with her left, pulled Ann close to her and kissed her, firmly, passionately, an arrow of gratitude and joy directed at Ann. 

“This is exquisite,” Anne said, flushed, when she broke the kiss.

“I used an antiquarian. It wasn’t me—“

Anne kissed her again, and this time Ann held onto her shoulders and kissed back, reflecting and absorbing Anne’s joy into her own.

“Come,” Ann said. “Let me show you where it goes.”

Ann held onto Anne’s elbow and led her into the library. Four shelves were bare.

Anne gently put her book on the highest shelf, on its side. “What was here?” She asked.

“Oh, these dreary encyclopedias. I asked the antiquarian what to get rid of. He said just throw them away. I couldn’t bear to do that, so I had James take them… off. To a merciful end.”

Anne smiled. “This is perfect.” 

The room was cool with indirect light from the wall of windows, and the three other walls were shelves, with a table and two stuffed chairs in the middle. 

Ann’s fingers drummed nervously on Anne’s arm. “This could be your office, too.”

“I prefer your dining room table,” Anne said.

Ann smiled. “I know. But like, for stuff.”

Anne kissed Ann’s temple. “I feel seen.”

Ann leaned into her. “Me too.”

***

The salmon salad had been eaten and Anne and Ann were curled up on the couch. Eartha Kitt played from speakers in the corner. 

Anne’s phone buzzed. She rubbed noses with Ann before picking it up. 

“It’s Bill,” Anne said. “Hi Bill, it’s Anne.”

“Anne,” he said. “I have good news. You’re reinstated.”

“What? When?” Anne sat up excitedly. Ann followed, putting her hand on Anne’s back.

“Tomorrow morning. 10 AM in Charlotte. You, me, and Elena Felton.”

“From Atlanta? Bill, what’s going on?”

“Your killer. We found real evidence. We need you on board as soon as possible so we can move forward and start making arrests.”

“Bill,” Anne breathed. 

“You’re going to get a commendation, kid. See you tomorrow.”

“Night,” Anne said. She hung up the phone. She turned to Ann, eyes wide, a grin creasing her face. 

“That’s fantastic, Anne.”

Anne’s eyes stung. She took Ann’s hands. “This has been the best day.”

“So far,” Ann said, and kissed her. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst. FBI stuff.

_In reading the psalms the tears trickled down my cheeks, I know not why. But our service is beautiful and I tried to read well and feel what I was about._ \- Anne Lister’s Diary, Sept 12, 1824

  
  


They got ready for bed, both solemn, in their own thoughts. Anne, reinstated. Ann, anxious. 

“What time do you have to get up tomorrow?” Ann asked. 

“Um. Five?” Anne sat on the bed, in her tank top and shorts, looking tousled and sleepy.

Ann bit her lip. “Wake me up, too? I’ll set my phone.”

“Ann, it’s so early.” Anne’s face was full of concern.

“I know. But if this is… If this is it. You might be gone for a while.”

“Yeah,” Anne said.

Ann got into bed and took Anne’s hands. “I want to see you before you go.”

Anne kissed her forehead. “Okay.”

Anne lay on her back and closed her eyes. Ann swore Anne was asleep in seconds. Must be some sort of cop training, to sleep where one could.

Ann stretched out along her side, as if she couldn’t get close enough. She hugged Anne’s waist. Her breathing sounded loud. Anne slept so quietly. Ann couldn’t remember ever hearing her snore. 

Ann was restless all night. Catching fits of sleep despite herself. Waking in terror, grabbing onto Anne to make sure she was still there.

Anne would occasionally respond, murmuring her name, or stroking her arm. 

At five, their phones simultaneously went off. Ann, lying awake, shut hers off and waited for Anne to stir.

Anne rolled over, nearly into her. Then yawned.

“Good morning, love,” Ann said.

Anne opened her eyes. “You really did wake up. Hi.”

“I didn’t really go to sleep.” Ann kissed her gently. “I’m going to make coffee. I’ve got a travel cup somewhere.”

“Thank you.” Anne stretched. 

“I’ll see you downstairs.”

Ann got something from her drawer, and then put on her robe and went downstairs. She turned on the coffee. She considered breakfast. She decided on a protein bar and a banana for Anne and put it into a bag.

She turned on the news. Then she turned off the news.

The dogs, confused, followed her from kitchen to living room and back.

Anne came downstairs. She wore a black suit with a white blouse, and shiny loafers, and her gun on a belt holster.

She took Ann’s breath away.

“You look… alive.” Ann said. “Like you were born to wake up at five a.m. and take on the world.”

Anne grinned. She came to Ann and gripped her shoulders. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Ann hugged her, and then stepped back. She pulled a handkerchief from her bathrobe pocket. “I wanted to give you this.”

Anne accepted the handkerchief. Embroidered at the corner was “A.W.” Anne brought it to her face. “It smells like you.”

“I put my shampoo on it. I thought you might like that.”

Anne cleared her throat. “Thank you.” She tucked it into her suit jacket’s interior pocket.

Ann looked at her lingeringly, and then went into the kitchen. “Here’s your coffee. And breakfast. You can eat in the car.”

Anne followed. She put a hand on Ann’s back. “I’m not going to hit my head again.”

“Don’t promise me that. Just promise me you’ll come home.” 

Anne, with her carafe and bag, kissed Ann tenderly.

Ann hugged her close. “My Anne.”

“Yours. The FBI just needs to borrow me for a few days.”

Ann kissed Anne’s jaw, and then stepped back. She met Anne’s gaze, and swallowed.

“I’ll see you soon, Ann.” Anne said. She cupped Ann’s cheek briefly, and then went to the door.

The dogs followed her, tails wagging, but she slipped through, and was gone.

Ann pressed her palms to the kitchen island and let out the sob she’d been holding in all night.

***

Bill Pargrave had brought donuts. 

Anne accepted one, regular glazed, as the introductions were made at the Charlotte FBI office conference room. Herself, Bill, Elena up from Atlanta. Two other agents from Charlotte, Hector and Maeve. The police chief of Columbia, Juan Carpenter.

Elena started the meeting. “We’re here to plan the apprehension of Roger Whitman, for the murder of his nephew, Daniel Whitman, also known as Tanya Whitman.”

Elena had called Anne on her drive so she wouldn’t be totally in the dark. Tanya Whitman’s body had not been hung, it had been found in a shallow grave in the woods less than a mile from her house. There was DNA evidence of a struggle, but no sexual assault, and no DNA match. Daniel’s family was off-the-grid, not participants in the education system, and not cooperative with the investigation. 

Until Daniel’s fingerprints were found on the letter to Sapphire’s grandfather. There was confidence that his arrest would lead to a DNA match. 

It was assumed he had a lot of guns at home.

Anne, listening to Elena recount the details again, reached into her jacket and touched the handkerchief there. 

“Let’s be clear,” Bill said. “We won’t be able to charge him with the deaths of Deanna Lopez or Sapphire Goning. But we have a search warrant and we’re praying he kept records of the people he sent letters to, an address book, anything.”

Juan spoke up. “Do you all think his family knew what he did? His wife? Tanya’s mom?”

“I don’t know,” Bill said.

Juan shook his head. 

“We’ll turn Roger over to the Justice Department. Our mandate here is preventing more deaths.”

Anne asked, “How do you think he knew who to write? To send letters to?”

“That’s a grim question,” Bill said. “And hopefully we’ll get an answer.”

***

Bill and Anne sat in the back of an SUV as it sped toward Atlanta.

“Now,” Bill asked. “What kind of jacket do you think we’d have on Roger Whitman?”

“Fraud. Forgery. Check kiting. Scams. Maybe assault?”

Bill opened a manilla envelope with one sheet of paper. “We got nothing. Just a driver’s license and a gun license.”

“That’s unsettling,” Anne said.

“Yes. So what’s your assessment?”

“He’s smart. He’s gotten other people to do his dirty work for a long time. No way he holds down a job. Does he have a wife?”

“Divorced, five years ago. Got people going to her place now.”

“Religious affiliations?”

“Only what we found on Google. He’s not a pastor.”

“Someone else is the front for him,” Anne said.

“Very smart.”

“Shit. And how many people do we have?”

“Five Special Agents. Eight cops,” Bill said.

“Rolling up the street like an army. Seems like that would tip him off.”

“The cops are going to get there first and talk to the neighbors. Make it look like it’s not him we’re after. He lives in a neighborhood of tiny World War II houses with chain link fences. We’ve got cop cars front and back.”

Anne rolled her neck. “So maybe he’ll think we’re here for the neighbors, too.”

“Ideally,” Bill said.

“Seems like suicide is the biggest risk.”

“I agree. But something tells me he wants to talk. Those letters he sent are intense. And he’s kept his hands clean the whole time, except for Tanya. He learned from that. He evolved. He’s going to be so full of shit.”

“You sound excited,” Anne said.

“Evil fascinates me,” Bill said.

“Just makes my job harder.”

***

Roger Whitman stood on his front porch, watching the cops talk to neighbors two doors down. He wore blue jeans and a clean, blue plaid button down shirt and cowboy boots.

He, for all his cunning, didn’t see the cops and FBI agents letting themselves through his back door and creeping through the house. 

Elena and Anne walked toward him. They suspected a tall woman and a black woman would raise his hackles.

Roger saw Elena and crossed his arms.

Elena and Anne showed their badges. Elena said, “FBI. Are you aware of what’s happening down the street?”

“No. If they were mixed up in something, I didn’t know about it.”

“And just to see if my county records are correct, you’re Roger Whitman?”

Roger turned his attention squarely to Elena. “Are you asking after the person or the corporation?”

Anne inwardly winced.

“The flesh-and-blood person who witnessed this,” Elena said.

“I will not testify.”

“Sure,” Anne said. “So, we’re re-opening the investigation into Tanya Whitman, and we’re thinking your neighbors might have had something to do with it.”

“Daniel.”

“What?” Elena asked.

“Daniel Whitman.”

Anne pretended to check her phone for notes. “Is that the uh, corporate name, then? The government name?”

“That’s _his_ name.”

“I have Tanya Whitman marked in the school records. So is that the government name?” Anne asked.

“I’m not talking to you,” Roger said. He turned on his heel to go inside.

Bill waved at him from inside his screen door.

Anne clasped her hand on Roger’s arm. Strong and sure. “Do you believe in God, Roger?”

Roger looked at her hand. “I believe in good and evil.”

“And which side are you?” Elena asked.

Bill came through the door, smiling cheerfully.

“What do you think,” Roger said. 

Elena said, “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter.” 

“You know nothing, little girl,” Roger said.

“I know forensics,” Elena said. “You know, ‘science’?” 

Roger scowled.

Bill nodded at Anne.

Anne twisted the arm she held behind Roger’s back. “Roger Whitman, flesh and blood person, I am arresting you for the murder of Tanya Whitman. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used by a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the state.”

“You’re arresting me for the murder of a person who didn’t exist,” Roger said.

“Tell it to the judge,” Anne said.

***

Anne called Ann from the SUV that was taking her back to Charlotte, five hours after the arrest.

Ann answered immediately. “Anne? Are you all right?”

“Yes. We got him. Completely peacefully. Not even a scratch.”

“It’s over? The kids?” Ann asked.

“I don’t know. But it’s the beginning of the end. We’ll figure out how he did it and we’ll stop it.”

“Anne. I’m proud of you.”

Anne blushed down to her roots. “It was a team effort. And Sam, he was the one who knew it was fucked up right from the start.”

“But you didn’t give up. Even when they suspended you.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save Deanna.”

“I’m sorry you never got to meet her,” Ann said.

“Me too. Look, it’s been a long day, I won’t drive back until tomorrow.”

“Okay. When you do, Phillip’s here for the week.”

“Phillip?”

“Just babysitting. His parents are trying to work it out.”

“Mm.” A strange feeling had come over Anne, the feeling of looking forward to Ann and a young man she already knew, who would be happy to see her. It made her think of her brother, and there was a wistfulness to her happiness.

“You’re my hero, Anne,” Ann said.

But it had been Ann who’d given the bus ticket to Deanna, and who’d given Phillip a safe place to be.

“You’re mine,” Anne said.

“Come home safe. Don’t get a big head,” Ann said. 

“I promise. Speed limit the whole way.”

“Love you, Lister,” Ann said.

“I love you, too.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New beginnings.

Anne arrived at the farmhouse the next afternoon.

Ann appeared on the porch, and Phillip scampered past her and down the steps, to stand in front of Anne and beam at her.

Anne glanced from Phillip to Ann.

Ann made a hugging motion with her arms, like a gorilla.

Anne took Phillip’s shoulders and drew him near. “Hi, Phillip. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hi, Anne!”

“Uh. What have you been doing?”

“I’ve been playing Animal Crossing. Ann’s been pacing.”

Anne guided Phillip toward the farmhouse. 

“Gardening,” Ann said. “I’ve been gardening.”

“Hot outside,” Anne commented.

“I’ve been thinking about gardening. It’s almost time for the fall bulbs. Do you think we should hire somebody?”

“Philip,” Anne said. “Go inside and get me some ice water. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

He slipped into the house.

Ann threw her arms around Anne’s neck. “Thank God you’re okay.”

“I am. I am okay.” Anne held her close. 

“So everything’s really over? With the case?”

“We caught him. That’s the main part.”

Ann kissed Anne, and then stepped back. “That’s wonderful.”

Anne smiled. “Are you going to invite me inside, ma’am?”

“Well, you have to get your water.” 

Ann held the door open and Anne went inside. Coolness greeted her. She dropped her bag at the staircase and stretched, and then went into the kitchen. Phillip had filled a glass with water and ice. She took a long sip.

“I wanted to add a lemon wedge,” Phillip said. “But Ann doesn’t have any cut up lemons and I didn’t want to waste one.”

“This is perfect, thank you.”

Ann came into the kitchen. She sat on a stool and peered at Anne, grinning.

“So y’all wanted to talk about gardening?”

“No.” Ann shook her head.

Phillip giggled, and then hid behind his hand.

Ann said, “It was really you and Sheriff Washington who took on this case. On Sam’s instincts and the word of a woman who’d probably committed a felony or two.”

Anne winked.

“I really want to thank you. I want to throw a party. You, Sam, Gillian, maybe even Bill and his Wife. And James and John Booth. The people that have been holding us together this summer.”

“You want to throw a party? With that many people?”

“I do. How’s Sunday?”

“Sounds good to me,” Anne said.

“Phillip, I thought you could do most of the design work and the preparations.”

“I get to plan a party?” He lit up.

“That’s right.”

“I have a condition. And I’ll let Phillip do all the food picking. But I want it catered,” Anne said. “No cooking and fussing while we’re supposed to be spending time with our friends.”

“I’ll ask around,” Ann said.

“No, I’ll ask around. I don’t want John’s momma volunteering.”

“I suppose that’s a good point,” Ann said.

“Is it going to be a theme party?” Phillip asked.

“Well, it’s the end of summer, and we’re celebrating. But we’re also a bit sad, too, because of the things that happened and the people we lost. Fall will be coming. You’ll be going back to school,” Anne said.

“So, ‘Under the sea’?” Ann asked.

Philip looked from Anne to Ann. “I’ll make a list. Okay? You can’t have mermaids in the summer.”

“All right.” Ann said.

Phillip ran to his laptop.

“When do you go back to work?” Ann asked.

“Tomorrow. There’s a lot to do now that we know what we’re doing.”

Ann stepped closer. “We’ll relax, tonight then, if you want. You had a big few days.”

“Mm.” Anne draped her forearms over Ann’s shoulders. “I did.”

“I wish I could have seen you, making that arrest.”

“Well, maybe I’ll re-enact it sometime,” Anne said.

Ann kissed her, and kissed her, until Phillip came back with his top five ideas for the “ Rural Summer Gala of the New South.”

***

Anne sat in her office, clicking determinedly through antique ring site after antique ring site online. She had no head for antiquing beyond the basics, far preferring math and science to the softer arts. That was biting her in the butt now. She wished she were more learned. She thought about asking Mariana, but Marina’s tastes ran conservative. Formal. And it was best not to be asking your ex-fiance about your future life partner.

Her phone rang. She recognized the name and Charlotte number that came up. “Hi, Jonas.”

“Anne, returning your call. I must say I’m surprised. You love your house.”

“I do. But if you can believe it, I found a house with better gardens.”

“Anne. But are they your gardens?”

“We’ll see. How much can I clear?”

“After your mortgage? At least a hundred grand. But that doesn’t take into account the sunk cost of all that renovation.”

“I’m sure people will enjoy the new kitchen. Put it on the market. And don’t be a dick about offers.”

“Are you sure, Anne? If you’re tight for cash, we can do a HELOC, or—“

“No, no. I’m making a ‘lifestyle’ change.”

“Well, it’s none of my business, but I hope you’re going to use that cash for a downpayment on a tiny apartment in Logan Circle.”

“You’re right. It’s none of your business.”

“All right. Thanks for the business, Anne. I’ll be in touch.”

Anne hung up the phone. She felt a twinge of wistfulness for her house and the dreams she once had, but the excitement in her chest was overpowering. She went back to the ring sites.

Gillian and Spratt had the engaging task of going through piles of Whitman’s mail, while Bill got to spend his day on hold with the Inspector General of the post office. Justice was in the details.

***

Phillip showed them print-outs of finger foods. 

“See, we’ll have the full meal. Brisket and chicken and mac and cheese, but we’re also ordering the full retinue of hors d'oeuvre for beforehand, when the sun is higher. Look at this, they carved out a cucumber and put chicken salad in it. And then a toothpick!”

“That looks delicious, Phillip. I could eat a whole plate of them,” Anne said. To Ann, she asked, “Did you give him a budget?”

Ann’s cheeks tinted pink. “Of course I gave him a budget. He needs to learn, doesn’t he?”

“Ann. How much of a budget?”

“$5000,” Ann said.

Anne winced, but smiled at Phillip.

“We’re getting a bounce house. And a volleyball net.”

“In Ann’s garden?”

“The pasture part with the dogs. Oh, and horseshoes. Everyone says they like horseshoes…” Phillip looked doubtful.

Ann put her hand on Anne’s arm. “There are a lot of kids coming.”

“Are there?”

“John’s cousins, Sam’s four daughters. A couple other folks I know. Bill’s bringing his baby.”

“They’ll probably mostly hang around the Playstation,” Phillip said. “And Laurel’s coming!”

“That’s great. I’d like to see her,” Anne said.

“It’s going to be amazing,” Phillip said.

Anne studied Ann’s ear. Silver earring. She wondered if she could sneak a look at Ann’s jewelry box. She hadn’t paid attention to Ann’s jewelry efficiently, though Ann always wore some. 

“Stop studying my ear like it’s the missing link,” Ann said.

“I was looking at your earring. It’s, uh, pretty.”

Ann raised her eyebrows, as if saying that had made it worse.

Anne turned her attention back to Phillip.

Phillip asked, “Do you like okra?”

“No,” Anne said.

He bit his lip, frowning. “I’m sure someone does…”

***

Anne came out of the bathroom in her boxers and Atlanta Y’all tee shirt.

Ann was under the covers in silk pajamas, squinting. She turned to Anne. 

“What are you thinking?” Anne asked. She got in on her side of the bed.

Ann shifted. “I’d be impractical for you to live here. We’re an hour from your work, which is ridiculous when you have that nice apartment. On the other hand, we’re an hour closer to Charlotte and Raleigh, which is where the real action happens.”

“True,” Anne said, noncommittally, listening with focus.

“And I’m surrounded by kids. Hordes of them.”

“But they are adorable,” Anne pointed out.

Ann nodded. “And you’d be bored to death out here with the country pace of life. With me, and—“

“Ann.” Anne twisted, taking Ann’s hands. “You are not boring.”

“If you say so,” Ann said. “Anyway. Want to move in?”

“Yes,” Anne said. “But in a few months.”

“Oh.”

“Things are afoot. Good things.” Anne raised Ann’s hands to her mouth, kissing the backs. 

“What things?”

“Surprise things. Ann, I’ve had one foot in Charlotte and one foot in Greenville, and you’re in neither place. I want my two feet planted here.” Anne shook her head, God, what on earth was she saying. 

“But you’ll move in.”

“Yes.”

Ann looked relieved. “What about your career?” 

“Frank spent 20 years in Greenville. I have a lot of options open to me.”

“Because you’re important. What you do is important—for people like Deanna.”

Anne squeezed Ann’s hands. “I wish I had more to offer than this… amazing house.”

“Ann. No one has accepted me like you do. Seen me like you do. Other people… only see one side of me, the side they want to see.”

“To understand is to love,” Ann said.

“I want to understand you just as well,” Anne said. “All your parts.”

“Well, you’ve seen me at my worst.”

“There is no ‘worst.’”

“There’s so many things we haven’t done yet. Haven’t tried,” Ann said.

“Like?”

“Sex toys,” Ann said.

“Oh. Yes. Well, let’s try those.”

“Why, what’s on your short list?”

“I thought we could go to the beach,” Anne said. 

“You hate the beach.”

“I know, but we’re so close,” Anne said. “Maybe just a weekend trip. We could spend five minutes at the ocean and hours in some four star restaurant.”

“The Duplin Wine Company is there,” Ann said.

“I’m not moving in,” Anne said.

Ann grinned. She tugged their linked hands closer, and kissed Anne softly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Sex toys?”

“Well, I haven’t bought them yet,” Ann said.

“We’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way, then,” Anne said. She scooted closer, kissing Ann, then tugging Ann’s lower lip between her teeth.

Ann’s eyes had drifted close. She smiled, not opening them. “Do whatever you want to me.”

***

Sam Washington stuffed a collard greens and black-eyed pea eggroll into his mouth. “This is a cool party. I’ve only ever been here on business. It’s a nice place.”

“It sure is,” Anne agreed.

The weather had cooperated, becoming overcast and balmy, allowing groups to mingle outside without frying. 

The kids, as predicted, were crowded inside around the game system, but John Booth and his mother played horseshoes, and Bill and Keiko sat on the porch, drinking beer and laughing at the dogs. 

Gillian and James had headed out into the woods and had not been seen for hours.

Ann had not let Bill’s baby out of her arms.

“You did a good thing,” Anne said. “With Deanna’s case.”

Sam watched as his wife played fetch with Buddy. “Sure. But you trusted me.”

“There will never come a day when I don’t trust Sheriff Washington,” Anne said.

Sam picked up a pimento cheese in a shot glass from a passing waiter. “Feeling’s mutual. But you know you’re going to be the talk of the town, having goddam caterers at your backyard cookout.”

“Well, technically it’s Ann’s.”

Sam grinned. “She does have quite a reputation already.” Sam finished his cheese. “I’m going to go get another beer.”

Anne wandered inside.

Laurel was keeping an eye on Phillip while Joseph Booth played some sort of racing game. Three of Sam’s daughters were watching him with rapture. The fourth daughter had the baby in her arms, and was talking animatedly to Laurel and Phillip.

Anne went into the kitchen and was quickly shooed out by caterers. “Where’s Ann?” She asked the room.

Phillip said, “She went out the front.”

“Ah. Thanks.” Anne went onto the front porch, where Ann sat in a swing. 

“Hi,” Ann said, smiling.

“Mind if I join you?”

Ann scooted to the side of the swing. Anne sat down beside her. They never spent much time on the front porch. There was the road, and the driveway, and trees. It was quiet, except for the shouting from behind them in the house, and the occasional barking dog.

“Are we hiding from our own party?” Anne asked.

Ann put her head on Anne’s shoulder. “I just needed a break. This is a lot of excitement.”

“I know.” Anne shifted, wrapping an arm around Ann’s shoulders.

“When do you think they’ll leave?”

Anne chuckled. She checked her watch. “Probably by eight.”

“Do you think I could sneak in a nap?”

“You can do whatever you want. It’s your house, and Phillip will keep the party going all by himself. Have you seen him circling around to each group of guests, and talking oh-so-politely to the caterers about timing?”

“Extroverts.” Ann chuckled. “So that’s a yes on the nap.”

“Yes.”

Ann turned and kissed Anne’s cheek. “It’s so nice talking to people like Bill without accompanying worry. But then I worry...that it might not happen again. We should soak it up.”

“Mm. I agree. There won’t be anything like this again. But there will be other things.”

Ann exhaled gently, closing her eyes.

“I don’t know who I should tell first, about moving in. Bill? Or Sam? They’re going to make fun of me.” Anne grumbled.

“Phillip. It’ll make him feel safe and happy.”

“Okay.” 

Ann yawned. 

“Go upstairs. I'll distract the guests with barbecue.” 

“Excellent.” Ann got up. She drew Anne up with her, and for a moment just looked into Anne’s eyes, biting her lip. 

Anne took Ann’s face in her hands and kissed her.

Anne smiled against Anne’s lips. She pressed another kiss to Anne, and then said, “Tell those kids they can’t play games while people are eating dinner.” 

“Will do.”

Ann gave her one last sweet look and went inside.

Anne went to the door. “Phillip, come out here. I want to talk to you about the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not an ending, this is a page break. 50,000 feels like enough for Book 1. Book 2 will be starting up, covering the fall months, with more familiar faces, new villains, and more closeness. Stay tuned. And thank you for everything. I love this fandom to bits.
> 
> I am accepting title suggestions!


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